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Dust to Dust 


Books by Isabel Ostrander 

ANNIHILATION 

ASHES TO ASHES 

THE CRIMSON BLOTTER 

DUST TO DUST 

HOW MANY CARDS 

THE ISLAND OF INTRIGUE 

MC CARTY, INCOG 

SUSPENSE 

THE TATTOOED ARM 

In Preparation 

LIBERATION 



DUST : 
: : TO 


e © o 

DUST 


BY 

ISABEL OSTRANDER 


NEW YORK :: :: :: :: : 

ROBERT M. McBRIDE & COMPANY 
:: :: :: :: :: :: :: 1924 


Copyright, 1924, by 
Robert M. McBride & Co. 


"? 2 -- 

u^ 


Printed in the 
United States of America 


Published, June, 1924 

JUL-9’24 (1 

© Cl A 8 0 0112 




CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGK 


I 

Prophecy and Portent 





I 

II 

Vow and Covenant 





n 

III 

Hours of Darkness 





31 

IV 

Beneath His Feet 





53 

V 

The Opened Door 





65 

VI 

Matthew Rowe’s Advice 





81 

VII 

Query and Evasion 





97 

VIII 

Stephen Stands By 





114 

IX 

The Shadow Looms 





130 

X 

Hugo Zorn Strikes 




„ 

146 

XI 

In Hallowed Ground . 




o 

157 

XII 

The Law Speaks . 





175 

XIII 

With Clear Vision 





188 

XIV 

The Dread Alternative 





205 

XV 

On the Rack 





216 

XVI 

Found! .... 





231 

XVII 

Under Oath . 





245 

XVIII 

The Star Witness 





255 

XIX 

The Jury Decides . 





266 

XX 

The Return . 





281 

XXI 

The Dust Storm . 





296 

XXII 

The Final Menace 





307 

XXIII 

Obliteration . 





322 

XXIV 

As a Little Child . 




. 

337 








DUST TO DUST 


CHAPTER I 

PROPHECY AND PORTENT 

“X DO love a table facing the Avenue, don’t you?” 
Mrs. Calvin Yates’ slightly nasal tones rang out 
with unconscious volume above the mellow notes 
of the orchestra and the gentle hum of well-bred voices 
about them. “It’s interesting to see all the celebrities 
go by, even though I don’t know who half of them are 
yet.” 

Her companion shuddered inwardly and raised her 
lorgnon to glance about her in apprehension, but it was 
early for the luncheon habitues at this most exclusive 
of restaurants and none of her own immediate circle 
was in view. Then, remembering the five thousand 
dollars which she had just borrowed with such ridicu¬ 
lous ease from her lamentably ordinary hostess, Mrs. 
Sears Edgett smiled indulgently. 

“How naive you are, my dear!” Her own voice was 
lowered in suggestive reproof. “You’ll find most celeb¬ 
rities unconscionably dull and egotistic after the first 
glamor has worn off, of course.” 

Mrs. Yates flushed, but her small, rounded chin pro¬ 
truded ever so slightly. 


1 


2 


Dust to Dust 

“I’ve met one who isn’t.—Oh, he’s not exactly cele¬ 
brated yet, but I’m sure he will be, for he’s doing 
splendid things!” 

“Some budding Western genius?” Mrs. Edgett 
asked banteringly. 

“On the contrary, he comes from one of your oldest 
families here in New York. He’s just a dear, simple 
boy, and success, when it comes, isn’t going to spoil 
him a bit. I’ve ordered a statue from him to put up 
back home; a memorial to Calvin.” 

A note of sadness had crept into the plump little 
widow’s tones, but her guest was oblivious to it. 

“Surely you don’t mean Stephen Munson?” she 
asked. “He and his mother have quite dropped out 
of things since their financial trouble but I heard he 
was dabbling in sculpture in some old rookery of a 
studio down on the wrong side of the Square. Pa¬ 
thetic, when you think what the Schuyler Munsons 
have been for generations! However did you—?” 

She paused, biting her lip, but Mrs. Yates laughed 
good naturedly. 

“However did I manage to meet him, do you mean? 
Through Mr. Rowe, the attorney who is attending to 
some of my Eastern interests.—Oh, do look at the 
perfectly glorious girl there in that motor!” she broke 
off irrepressibly. “I don’t think I ever saw any one 
so absolutely beautiful in my life!” 

Mrs. Edgett glanced out at the broad avenue teem¬ 
ing with cars in the bright spring sunshine and gave a 
slight start. 

“Claudia!—And out of mourning! My dear,” 


Prophecy and Portent 3 

she added impressively, “that is Claudia Langham, 
last of the Langhams who have been our social auto¬ 
crats for more than fifty years! When she was intro¬ 
duced—and it was a season noted for the number and 
beauty of its debutantes, I remember—she stood quite 
alone, supreme; the belle of the town! Since her 
father’s death, though, she has shut herself up in that 
wonderful old mansion of theirs down on the Square 
and refused to see any one. I had not heard that she 
was going about again; I must call at once!” 

“I should think she would have been lonely.” A 
block in the double row of traffic had halted the car 
just beyond their window and Mrs. Yates’ admiring 
gaze was fastened upon the exquisite face of the girl 
seated alone in the tonneau. Cameo-like in the classi¬ 
cal perfection of the small clear-cut features, there 
was something regal in the poise of her head, with its 
wealth of shining golden hair, beneath the smart little 
toque. Something imperious, too, appeared in the 
bow with which she greeted a passing acquaintance. 
The next moment her car rolled smoothly forward and 
she was gone. 

“‘Lonely’?” Mrs. Edgett shrugged. “If she has 
been it was by her own choice, but the whole family 
have been eccentric. Strange tales were told of her 
grandfather and they say there is a room in that 
house—! How do, Dicky?” 

She held out two languid fingers to a young man 
who had been making his way toward them between 
the tables. He was dapper almost to the point of 
effeminacy but his light hair was receding from his 


4 Dust to Dust 

forehead and there were telltale lines about his pale, 
heavy-lidded eyes. 

“Mrs. Yates, this is Dicky Tewson.” She turned 
to her hostess. “Do ask him to sit down and have 
some coffee with us, but beware of him; he is a most 
wicked person!—Who do you think passed just now?” 

“Claudia Langham,” the newcomer responded 
promptly, as he availed himself of Mrs. Yates’ prof¬ 
fered invitation. “Quite radiant, wasn’t she? I don’t 
remember ever having seen her appear so human— 
Galatea come to life, what?” 

“I feel sorry for her, somehow.” Mrs. Yates spoke 
impulsively. “A young girl like that all alone and 
every one keeping her on a sort of pedestal.” 

“ ‘Sorry for her’ ?” Mrs. Edgett’s brows rose again. 
“She is the one girl I know who has everything, and 
she is well aware of it. It would take a very brave 
man indeed to ask her to step down from that pedestal, 
my dear!” 

“Then you haven’t heard—?” Dicky Tewson paused 
significantly. “But I forgot you had been away for so 
long.” 

“Two months at Hot Springs.” She leaned forward 
her sharp face avid with interest. “Tell me, Dicky! 
You don’t mean that Claudia—!” 

“Oh, nothing has been announced, of course, but 
you know that chap Hamersley?” 

“Niles Hamersley?” Mrs. Edgett’s voice had risen 
a note. “He’s simply fascinating! So distinguished- 
looking, too, with those tiny patches of gray at the 
temples, although one does wonder how so young a 


Prophecy and Portent 5 

man should have come by them. His bridge is flaw¬ 
less and he dances divinely; it is really a pity that he 
appears to care so little for society! Is it possible that 
he—that Claudia—?” 

Farther down the avenue other tongues were wag¬ 
ging as Claudia Langham’s car passed. Its progress 
caused two elderly gentlemen in a certain club window, 
who had been peacefully comparing their golf scores, 
to enter into a brief but heated discussion. 

“Preposterous, I tell you!” The stout gentleman 
brought his hand down with a cushiony thud on the 
arm of his chair. “I’ve known Drayton Langham’s 
girl all her life, held her on my knee when she was a 
baby, by George! I’m no he-gossip but it was common 
talk that she refused some of the finest fellows in 
New York the year she came out and now you tell me 
she’s going to marry this—this nobody? Rot!” 

“My wife says so and she usually knows,” his 
weazened companion maintained with the tenacity of 
the meek. “Hamersley appears to have all the money 
he needs, he belongs to the best clubs, goes with the 
best people—” 

“The more fools they!” the other snorted. “Mind 
you, I’ve nothing against the fellow, but did you ever 
notice that he’s a little too careful to look you square 
in the eye and grip your hand like a—a damned candi¬ 
date? Hah! What were his people, where’d he get 
his money, who ever heard of him, anyway, until a 
couple of years ago? I dare say he’s eligible enough 
for most of the flappers who clutter up our country 
clubs, but for Claudia Langham—!” 


6 


Dust to Dust 

Meanwhile the car containing the girl whose pass¬ 
ing had caused so much comment reached the end of 
the avenue and turned to the right along the north 
side of the famous Square. For many generations it 
had held its own as the nucleus of fashion and the 
stately old mansions which faced it had housed the 
flower of the city’s aristocracy. That era was gone 
now, and only a few survivors of the older families 
still clung to the homes of their ancestors. 

The girl’s eyes, blue as anemones, turned to the 
budding spring splendor of the square and she caught 
her breath with a little gasp of sheer happiness. That 
drive down the avenue had been like a dream; the 
massed blur of faces, from which a familiar one had 
stood out here and there for an instant to be vaguely 
greeted and to vanish, the vast yet somehow far-away 
confusion of sound, the dazzling brilliance of the sun¬ 
light—had it all been real? 

Had anything been real since that wondrous moment 
the night before when Niles Hamersley had taken her 
in his arms? She could hear once more his fervent 
whispered words, feel the pressure of his lips against 
her mouth, and at the memory her senses reeled in 
ecstasy and she closed her eyes. What madness was 
this which had entered her veins, which made of the 
everyday world about her an enchanted place! 

The stopping of the car at the curb brought her in¬ 
stantly back to herself, and it was the self-contained, 
perfectly poised Claudia who alighted and made her 
way up the steps of the great, square pile of brown- 
stone to the wide doors which opened before she 


Prophecy and Portent 7 

reached them to reveal the white-haired butler nodding 
his greeting. 

“Have any messages come for me, George?” she 
asked mechanically. In just this fashion had the old 
man opened the same door through countless years 
to admit two generations of the Langhams, but surely 
never one so happy! Never had there been a day like 
this! She smiled at her own whimsical thought and 
then her heart missed a beat at his reply. 

“Yes, miss. There are flowers which Annie took 
upstairs, and Mr. Hamersley telephoned twice and— 
and Mr. Stephen is in the drawing-room,” the old voice 
quavered. “I told him you would be home soon and 
he said he would wait.” 

“Stephen here? Oh, how nice!” Claudia turned 
toward the drawing-room and then paused. “Did— 
what did Mr. Hamersley say, George?” 

“Just asked for you the first time, miss. When he 
called again he said that he would be here at four.” 

“Very well, George.” She turned again but waited 
until the butler’s shaky footsteps had vanished down 
the hall and then pressed both hands suddenly to her 
cheeks, conscious of their burning. At four! Not 
quite two hours to wait and then she would see him 
again, hear his voice, feel the tender strength of his 
arms enfolding her. . . . 

“Claudia!” A young man rose from his chair as 
she entered the drawing-room and advanced impetu¬ 
ously toward her. “Claudia, I’ve such news for you! 
I ran across the Square to tell you, I couldn’t wait! 
Mother is at the studio and I told her I’d bring you 


8 Dust to Dust 

back with me for tea, but I wanted to tell you first 
alone!” 

His slim, strong hands with their tapering fingers 
clasped her smaller, gloved ones in joyful comrade¬ 
ship. Claudia smiled back at him as she gently disen¬ 
gaged herself and gestured toward his chair. 

“What is it, Stephen? Do sit down and tell me. 
I have news for you, too, but mine will keep.—Now, 
what has happened?” 

Claudia regarded him with amused affection as she 
seated herself and commenced to draw off her gloves. 
Good old Stevie! He hadn’t changed a bit since the 
days when as children they had played in the Square 
together! His brown hair still curled as absurdly, 
his deep, brown eyes were just as merrily irresponsible, 
but as clear and steady. Was she the only one in the 
world who had changed? 

All at once she became conscious that he was speak¬ 
ing again, jerkily, as though he had been running hard, 
and the words fairly tumbled from his lips. 

“Can’t you guess? You and mother were the only 
ones who really had faith in me, who thought that I 
might have a chance! I didn’t dare let myself hope 
for it, dream of it! I can’t believe it, now that it has 
come! Guess, Claudia!” 

“I can’t.” She shook her head vaguely, wishing 
that her old friend would be a little less exuberant in 
his joy, yet trying her best to enter into it. “A new 
order for a fountain or something?” 

“A new order, yes! The—the greatest that could 
come to me! Why, Claudia, it was you who first sug- 


Prophecy and Portent 9 

gested that I try for it, we planned it together months 
ago. You helped me with the first rough sketches, en¬ 
couraged me when everything seemed to be going 
wrong—where are your thoughts?’’ He sprang from 
his chair again and came to her side. “Claudia, I’ve 
won it! I’ve won the competition for the heroic group 
at the new courthouse !” 

“Oh, Stephen!” She rose also and gave him her 
hands again, her own strange new happiness for the 
moment completely submerged in his. “I am so glad 
for you! I knew it, I was sure of it all along, evea 
though the greatest sculptors in the country were com¬ 
peting against you! Your mother must be so wonder¬ 
fully proud and pleased! Tell her for me how de¬ 
lighted I am—!” 

“Come over and tell her yourself!” Stephen urged. 
“She’s fixing a most marvelous tea and we’ll cele¬ 
brate—!” 

“But I can’t, Stephen.” A swift thought came to 
Claudia and, blushing, she made a movement to with¬ 
draw her hands from his. “I’m expecting a guest here 
for tea. I am so very sorry—” 

“Oh, can’t George say that you’re ill, or called 
away, or something?” There was more than disap¬ 
pointment in his tone but Claudia’s ears were deaf 
to it. 

“Not to—this guest,” she replied softly, and then 
added in haste: “But I’m glad you came to tell me. 
Think what it means, Stephen! You are made, your 
career is assured! You’ll be famous—!” 

“It means more than that to me.” His voice had 


10 Dust to Dust 

grown suddenly husky with overmastering feeling. 
“It means that some day if it leads to bigger, greater 
things, I—I—Claudia! What is—this?” 

He was gazing down stupidly at her left hand which 
he still held in his and at the single blue-white diamond 
that blazed upon it. 

“That was the news I had for you, Stephen!” For 
the first time she felt an unaccountable shyness in the 
presence of her old playmate, and glancing down, failed 
to meet the look of pain and incredulity in his eyes. 
“Isn’t it wonderful that our happiness should have 
come to us both at the same time! For you a great 
career and for me—I am going to be married, 
Stephen!” 

Somehow she could not say the word “love” to him. 
It held a new, mysteriously sweet meaning, too sacred 
to be uttered save in one presence, and with her 
thoughts lingering upon it she did not note the long 
moment that passed before he regained command 
of himself. 

“You, Claudia! Why, you—you’ve swept me off 
my feet! I wish you all the happiness in the world, 
my dearest girl! I never dreamed—but the only 
wonder of it is that it did not come to you before this, 
with the army of suitors in your train, Princess! I’m 
tremendously glad—!” 

He paused, in dire fear lest his voice should fail 
him but Claudia laughed softly. 

“ ‘Princess’!” she echoed. “That was your name 
for me when we were kiddies, wasn’t it? I’m swept off 
my feet too, Stephen. It all happened so quickly that 


Prophecy and Portent 11 

I scarcely realize it myself, but I wanted to tell you 
before the formal announcement.” 

“Who is he?” Stephen smiled and straightened his 
shoulders. “Who is the luckiest man in the world?” 

Claudia glanced downward at her ring once more. 

“I am going to marry Niles Hamersley.” 

“Good—God!” Stephen backed away from her, his 
voice suddenly hoarse. “Not he! Not that man! 
Claudia, you mustn’t, you shan’t!” 

For a moment she gazed at him, bewildered. Could 
she have heard aright? Yet surely there could be no 
mistaking the look of dismay almost akin to horror 
upon his face, the half-incredulous entreaty in his eyes. 
The room whirled around her but she drew herself up 
proudly. 

“Stephen, you are beside yourself! You cannot 
know what you are saying! I shall not even ask you 
to explain—!” 

“Claudia, listen, you must hear me! You spoke 
just now of the time when we were kiddies, when we 
used to play together in the Square and on rainy days 
up in the cupola here. We often pretended that we 
were brother and sister, do you remember?” He 
choked, but went on with a sort of deadly earnestness. 
“For the sake of those days, won’t you try to pretend 
for a minute now that I am your brother, and let me 
speak? You must not marry Niles Hamersley!” 

One hand went to her throat but she still held her¬ 
self imperiously erect. 

“If you hadn’t recalled how long our friendship 
has lasted I—I would have to tell you that it was at an 


12 


Dust to Dust 

end here and now.” She spoke very slowly and dis¬ 
tinctly. “What possible reason can you have for 
thinking that Mr. Hamersley is—is not all that the 
world believes him to be, all that is splendid and fine?” 

Stephen’s hands were clenching and unclenching at 
his sides in an agitation bordering on frenzy and his 
voice was shaking as he replied: 

“I have no reason, Claudia, it is mere blind instinct, 
I suppose. I never met the man until you brought 
him to my studio, but from the first I realized there 
was something hidden and furtive about him—sinister, 
if you like. There is a shadow upon him! I know 
nothing against him, but I do not need to know—I 
feel it—here!” With an unconsciously dramatic ges¬ 
ture those working hands went to his breast and before 
Claudia could speak he burst out: “I beg, I implore 
you, as you value your happiness, don’t take this rash, 
impulsive step! I can’t explain, but I feel as surely as 
though I were looking into the future that it can bring 
you only unspeakable suffering—tragedy!” 

“You are mad!” Claudia’s eyes flashed. “I shall 
not listen to another word of this wild raving! You 
have outrageously attacked the man I care for, the 
man who is to be my husband, through a prejudice as 
wicked as it is senseless! Please go. I—I shall not 
find it easy to forgive you!” 

He hesitated, his eyes searching hers beseechingly, 
but reading only resentment in their depths he bowed 
his head and moved slowly to the door. On the 
threshold he turned and said brokenly: 

“I would give my life, Claudia, if I could make you 


Prophecy and Portent 13 

see and understand! Remember always, even though 
you hate me now, that I am your friend, standing by 
if any sorrow or harm should come to you. I can only 
pray to God that it may be averted, that you will be 
happy!” 

He was gone, and, although the hurt remained, 
Claudia’s resentment gradually gave place to renewed 
wonder. That he, her childhood friend, should have 
been the first to cloud her happiness even for a mo¬ 
ment! His outburst would have been ridiculous, ab¬ 
surd, if it had been directed against any one else, but 
against Niles it was unpardonable. Stephen would 
never be the same to her again, although in justice she 
tried to find excuses for his wholly incomprehensible 
attitude. 

The boy was overwrought, her news had been a 
shock and the thought of losing the companionship 
which her marriage to any one would take from him 
must have aroused a jealousy which she never guessed 
lay dormant in his generous nature. Something fur¬ 
tive and sinister about Niles—her Niles? A shadow 
upon him? She smiled in contemptuous repudiation 
of such madness. The whole distressing episode must 
be put from her mind, not another moment of this pre¬ 
cious day should be marred—and soon Niles would be 
here! 

Her heart sang anew and humming a gay little tune 
she ran lightly up the stairs to her room where an 
elderly woman, erect as a girl in spite of her gray 
hairs, hurried forward, beaming. 

“I opened your flowers, Miss Claudia.” She ges- 


14 Dust to Dust 

tured toward a mass of glowing red roses in a vase 
upon the table. “This was with them.” 

“Oh, what beauties!” Claudia bent to bury her 
face in the cool fragrance of their bloom and then 
eagerly drew the card from the envelope which the 
maid had extended. “I must change my gown, Annie, 
and I know my hair is in a dreadful state! Mr. 
Hamersley is coming at four.” 

She did not hear the faithful Annie’s reply nor heed 
the adoring gaze fastened upon her, for her own eyes 
were traveling swiftly over the message penned in a 
bold, heavy masculine hand:—“A hostage to my love 
until I come.” 

His own voice, tender, compelling, seemed to re¬ 
peat the words lingeringly in her ears and Claudia’s 
pulses leaped as a warm flush mounted in her cheeks. 
“His love!” She was his love forever and forever! 
Why had she never dreamed that life could be as won¬ 
derful as this? The future stretched in a golden 
haze before her, endless days of unclouded happiness 
through the changing seasons and the growing years, 
with Niles’ love enveloping her as his arms had held 
her last night. 

With a blissful little sigh she looked up to meet her 
maid’s eyes. 

“Ah, but it does my heart good to see you like this!” 
Annie exclaimed. “Sometimes I’ve despaired of you, 
Miss Claudia!” 

“Why?” Claudia smiled. 

“All the splendid young gentlemen who came court¬ 
ing when you first went in society three years ago, and 


Prophecy and Portent 15 

you as sweet but as cold to them as the Ice Queen I 
used to read about to you out of that fairy book when 
you was a little bit of a thing!” The rheumatic fingers, 
trembling slightly, unhooked her frock. “I had hopes 
of this one or that, but you sent them all away, and 
I was afraid that pride of yours would never let you 
stoop to any man.” 

“I haven’t!” Claudia cried joyously. “I feel very 
humble, Annie. Mr. Hamersley is—oh, there isn’t 
another man like him in all the world! I can scarcely 
realize even yet that he cares for me!” 

She seated herself before the dressing-table and the 
old woman sniffed as she took down the shining hair. 

“Why wouldn’t he, if he’s human?” she demanded 
indignantly. “It’s your happiness I’m thinking of, for 
you had everything before but love, and now you have 
that, too! I only wish your dear mother was here to 
see this day!” 

“I wonder”—Claudia spoke as if to herself—“I 
wonder if she could possibly have been as happy as I 
am now!” 

Annie glanced hurriedly upward with a curious, 
shrinking look in her eyes. 

“There was never a girl who didn’t think that, when 
she first got engaged, Miss Claudia.” There was an 
odd note of repression in her tone. “If Mr. Hamers¬ 
ley is as good—take care!” 

The handle of a small mirror on the edge of the 
dressing-table had caught in the lace sleeve of Claudia’s 
negligee, but the maid swooped upon it before any 
damage was done. 


“If you broke it,” she began tremulously, “there 
would have been seven years of bad luck—!” 

“Nonsense, you superstitious old darling!” Claudia 
interrupted with a laugh. “I don’t believe in signs and 
omens, and I’m immune against all bad luck!—Oh, 
hurry! It’s nearly four!” 

The clock was just striking the hour when old 
George knocked upon the door. 

“Is it Mr. Hamersley?” Claudia asked eagerly as 
she fastened a blood-red rose at the belt of her soft 
blue gown. “Please say that I am coming—” 

Her voice was lost in a dull, heavy crash in the room 
just above and the tinkling echo of shattered glass 
seemed to vibrate on the air. 

The girl’s heart stood still. It was the first sound 
in many long years to come from that room—what 
could it mean? She saw old George lean suddenly 
against the door casing as his shaking knees almost 
gave way beneath him and a grayish pallor overspread 
his face. Then Annie’s low cry reached her ears. 

“The picture up in the sealed room! The picture 
fell! That means—death!” 

Death! Signs and omens again! Claudia’s lip 
curled disdainfully. 

“It means worn wires and rusted hooks, nothing 
more! It shall stay where it has fallen, for the room 
must not be opened; that was my father’s wish.— 
And let me hear no more of that dismal croaking, 
Annie! No harm can come to me or to this house!” 

Brushing past the quaking form of the butler, she 
went confidently down the stairs. 


CHAPTER II 


VOW AND COVENANT 

A TALL, lissome figure, more statuesque than 
ever in the straight lines of gleaming white 
satin; wide, deep-blue eyes that shone with 
a soft, humid light; and a glimmer of golden 
hair beneath the sweeping veil of creamy old lace— 
it was a radiant figure indeed which looked back at 
Claudia from the tall mirror! 

Involuntarily she caught her breath with a little 
gasp. Could it really be she, a bride? In an hour— 
in less, for it was almost high noon—she would be the 
wife of Niles Hamersley. How strange it seemed! 
The weeks of preparation, hurried yet dragging, 
appeared now to have passed like a dream, but it was 
a dream from which she could not seem to awaken. 

A sense of almost theatric unreality pervaded her, 
as though she had been dressed to play a part and was 
waiting for the curtain to rise. The gentle patter of 
the warm June rain against the window, the heavy, 
cloying perfume of her bridal bouquet, the smooth, 
cool touch of Niles’ pearls about her neck—were they 
not all mere details of a set scene? 

She was fingering the pearls meditatively when a 
long-drawn quivering sigh sounded from behind her 
and she turned. 

“Goodness, Annie, are you going to cry again?” 

17 


18 


Dust to Dust 

“I might, any minute, though they’d be tears of 
joy for you, my lamb, not sadness.” Annie smiled, 
but her expression grew lugubrious once more as she 
glanced toward the window. “It’s a great pity, 
though, that you didn’t have a fine day for your wed¬ 
ding. If only that dratted rain would stop! ‘Happy 
is the bride that the sun—’ ” 

“Oh, the weather doesn’t matter.” Claudia turned 
to the mirror again. “It will be a blessing if it helps 
to keep the crowd away from the church doors. Are 
you sure you won’t change your mind and come, Annie? 
It’s my one disappointment to-day—not to have you 
present at my marriage.” 

The old woman shook her head stubbornly. 

“I couldn’t, Miss Claudia; I just couldn’t a-bear 
it. My feelings would get the best of me, even though 
they’d be happy ones, and I don’t want to break down 
so’s I couldn’t go away with you on your wedding trip. 
There are a few odds and ends to pack yet, but you 
know I’ll be thinking of you every minute—thinking 
and praying.” 

Impulsively Claudia swept the erect, frail little fig¬ 
ure into her arms and kissed her. 

“I’m sure you will, you darling!—Isn’t it time for 
Uncle Matt to be here?” 

“Any minute, now.” Annie hesitated. “Miss 
Claudia, if you’ll take the advice of the old woman who 
first laid you in your mother’s arms, you won’t wear 
those pearls to-day.” 

“Not wear them!” Claudia explained, amazed. 
“Not wear Mr. Hamersley’s gift!” 



Vow and Covenant 19 

“They were a sad choice, in spite of their beauty!” 
Annie shook her head. “Pearls are tears.” 

“If they are”—Claudia smiled in all the confidence 
of her love—“they will be the only ones Mr. Hamers- 
ley will cause me to know! Tell me, do I look—well, 
Annie? I want to look nicer to-day in his eyes than 
ever before.” 

“You’re the loveliest thing in all this world!” the 
fond old voice crooned. “The loveliest bride that 
ever entered the church! There’ll not be one there nor 
at that reception afterward but will remember you to 
their dying day!” 

Claudia made a little grimace of distaste. 

“I wish Uncle Matt hadn’t insisted on that huge, 
formal reception at the Belmonde! I should like to 
have gone quietly away immediately after the cere¬ 
mony, but Uncle Matt has been so kind all these years 
and his heart was so set upon it that I couldn’t bear 
to refuse.” 

“Mr. Rowe was right, dearie. A wedding in the 
Langham family means something to the world and 
you’re the last of the line, so it’s only fitting and proper 
that it should be celebrated right. The last of the 
Langham weddings should be the grandest of all.” 

Annie droned on reminiscently as she touched her 
young mistress’ costume here and there with deft, solic¬ 
itous fingers, but the girl scarcely heard. The last 
of the Langham weddings! In such a short space of 
time now she would be Claudia Hamersley, and her 
thoughts lingered upon the name like a caress. It was 
as though she were stepping into a new personality— 


20 Dust to Dust 

and yet that sense of unreality still prevailed. The 
man who was to meet her at the altar steps—would 
his be the same tender, adorably familiar presence or 
would the very fact that she was putting her life into 
his keeping make him seem a stranger? 

Then his face arose before her, gray eyes alight and 
mobile lips set in the little half-smile she knew so well, 
and an answering wave of joyous reassurance swept 
over her. Niles could never for an instant seem 
other to her than his own dear self, who had taken her 
heart by storm and would hold it forever! 

Matthew Rowe, her father’s closest friend and the 
Langham attorney since long before her birth, was to 
give the bride away, and now, when old George, re¬ 
splendent in a new morning coat and white bouton¬ 
niere, came up to announce his arrival Annie bustled 
downstairs with her mistress’ cape. Claudia lingered 
for a moment, gazing with soft eyes about the dainty 
room. 

It had been hers since her earliest girlhood, its 
furnishings and appointments chosen with loving care 
by the mother who had died abroad when she was fif¬ 
teen. Here Claudia had dreamed and planned through 
the long school holidays, from here she had gone 
forth to the ball which marked her formal introduction 
to society, and it was here that she had known the deep 
heartache and sorrow when her father had been taken 
from her. She had often wondered if she would ever 
leave it, a bride, and now the moment had come! 

Although they were to live here in the old house 
when the honeymoon was over, it would be the main 


Vow and Covenant 21 

suite, that had been her father’s and mother’s, which 
they would now occupy. Claudia Langham would 
never again enter this sanctum of her girlhood—it 
would be Claudia Hamersley, a strange woman, who 
would next cross its threshold. Her glance lingered, 
in half-whimsical, half-sad farewell, on one familiar 
object after another. Last of all it fell once more on 
the vision in the mirror. Merrily she curtsied to it, 
and then, with head held high and heart beating fast, 
she turned and went down the broad staircase. 

The tall, straight, elderly figure which waited at its 
foot gave an uncontrollable start and then held out 
both hands in silent greeting. The eloquence which 
had brought him victory in many a celebrated case 
was overwhelmed for a moment in a tide of emotion, 
and when, at length, Matthew Rowe spoke, his deep, 
sonorous tones were husky and trembling. 

“My dear, I could have sworn you were your mother 
as she was the day your father brought her home! 
You are a picture of loveliness!” 

Claudia smiled and raised herself on tiptoe to kiss 
him lightly on the forehead. 

“Of happiness as well I hope, Uncle Matt, or my 
looks would belie me!” she cried with tremulous 
gayety. 

“You are happy, my child?” He tilted her chin 
to look into her eyes. “You are sure of yourself, sure 
of your own mind and heart? You are taking a step 
to-day, this very hour, which you can never undo. Are 
you sure you have considered well?” 

Claudia drew back in displeasure as much at herself 


22 Dust to Dust 

as at him, for the unwonted solemnity of his tone had 
affected her, but she forced a little laugh. 

“I do believe, you old cynic, that your legal experi¬ 
ence has convinced you no woman knows her own 
mind! No wonder you always remained a bachelor! 
Seriously, Uncle Matt, I don’t think any woman was 
ever, ever as happy as I am to-day, or as sure of her¬ 
self and the future! Does that satisfy you so that you 
can give me in marriage with a contented mind and a 
clear conscience ?” 

“Yes, my dear! I have stood in loco parentis to 
you for two years, remember, and perhaps I am jeal¬ 
ous of relinquishing my self-appointed guardianship! 
I wish you every happiness, always, Claudia!” He 
kissed her with fatherly gentleness and then added, in 
his usually urbane manner: “It is time to start now— 
is the car here, George?” 

“Yes, sir.” The old butler came forward from 
the end of the hall, holding his silk hat at a careful 
angle. “Miss Claudia gave me permission to ride 
in front with the chauffeur—” 

“Quite right.—Let me have that cape, Annie. All 
ready, my child?” 

“Yes, Uncle Matt.” Claudia gently disengaged 
herself from a last, clinging embrace of her old nurse 
who, smiling valiantly through her tears, stood at the 
door as they descended the steps under the canopy of 
striped awning, and between two huddled groups of 
curious sightseers entered the waiting car. 

As they drove off the rain pattered on the windows 
and the trees now in full leaf in the Square bent before 


Vow and Covenant 23 

the sharp gusts of wind. The girl glanced beyond 
them to the shabby, old, brick studio building which 
showed mistily through the downpour and remarked 
impulsively: 

“I wonder if Stephen will come to my wedding! I 
sent him an invitation, of course, as well as his mother, 
but I have heard nothing from her since her note of 
congratulation upon my engagement arrived. I 
told Stephen before it was announced, Uncle Matt, 
and he behaved very ungraciously about it, poor boy!” 
She laughed softly. “I’ve been his confidante and 
companion for so long that I believe with the selfish¬ 
ness of genius he has come to look on me as his ex¬ 
clusive property. It never occurred to him that I 
would marry anybody!” 

The attorney glanced at her in astonishment but her 
smile expressed only a half-pitying, half-amused toler¬ 
ance and his lips tightened. After a moment he said 
quietly: 

“Mrs. Munson went away a month ago and I un¬ 
derstand that Stephen has shut himself up in his studio 
and is working night and day to execute the commis¬ 
sion my Western client, Mrs. Yates, gave him.—By 
the way, my dear, did you send her an invitation, too, 
as I asked?” 

Claudia nodded with a little grimace. 

“Yes, Mrs. Edgett brought her to call, you know. 
She’s very—natural, isn’t she?” 

“Vulgar, you mean?” Matthew Rowe shrugged. 
“She is not the usual type of climber, not at all ambi¬ 
tious to thrust her way into a society which is reluctant 


24 Dust to Dust 

to receive her, but frankly, avowedly anxious to enjoy 
life, to like everybody and be liked in return. I sup¬ 
pose an earlier generation of Langhams would have 
turned in their graves at the thought of a parvenu 
being among the wedding guests—!” 

“Oh, I didn’t mean that, Uncle Matt!” Claudia 
turned to him reproachfully. “Other times, other 
manners, and I found her very amusing. If it will give 
her any real pleasure to be here I am glad; I want 
every one to be happy around me to-day.—Goodness, 
what a mob!” 

They had neared the canopy which stretched down 
from the church doors. A veritable sea of umbrellas 
bobbed and jostled each other on either side and even 
across the Avenue. George clambered down, tottering, 
but with great dignity, and when Matthew Rowe 
assisted the bride to alight, the murmur of admira¬ 
tion from the bystanders swelled to a scattered cheer. 
It was lost, however, in the rolling, deep-throated 
tones of the organ welling out in the opening strains 
of the wedding march as Claudia, after halting for an 
instant to be divested of her cape, laid her tiny, gloved 
hand on the arm of her father’s old friend and the 
great door opened before them. Huge as it was, the 
edifice was packed to the doors with the most brilliant 
throng it had held in many a day, for people of note in 
the diplomatic world, as well as social and financial, 
had come from afar to do honor to this daughter of 
the Langhams. A little stir ran like a rippling breeze 
over the assembly but Claudia neither saw nor 
heard. 


Vow and Covenant 25 

Outwardly as calmly, regally poised as ever, she 
walked slowly, steadily up the aisle, her eyes filled with 
a soft radiance gazing straight before her, seeking not 
the bishop nor the attendant minister, who had stepped 
forward at the altar, but the stalwart figure who stood 
beside it, awaiting her. 

She felt that her heart was leaping from her breast, 
breaking its bonds to go before her and meet his, and 
when she found his gaze bent upon her with a proud, 
almost reverential light in the warm gray eyes, her 
own clung for a moment, then wavered and fell. A 
surge of emotion swept over her such as she had not 
known even in the first wonderful hour of her be¬ 
trothal. 

The distance to the altar seemed to stretch intermi¬ 
nably before her, but all at once she was there before 
its steps and Niles Hamersley had stepped forward 
and taken his place beside her. 

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together . . .” 
the rich, deep voice intoned majestically, echoing back 
from the vaulted arches above. Claudia was only 
dimly conscious of snatches of phrases: “. . . honor¬ 
able among all men . . . not by any to be entered 
into unadvisedly or lightly ... if any man can show 
just cause ... let him now speak or else hereafter 
forever hold his peace.” 

A perfunctory instant of silence fell and then the 
majestic tones went on and it was borne in upon her 
tha*t Niles was being addressed. 

. . keep thee only unto her, as long as ye both 
shall live?” 


26 Dust to Dust 

The voice of the man beside her rang out strongly 
and proudly in the response and Claudia thrilled with 
exaltation at his tone. Lifted far above herself, she 
was only half conscious of the words spoken to her. 
When they ceased she wondered if the clear voice 
which sounded in her ears could be indeed her own. 

“I will.” 

After that she was dimly aware that Uncle Matt 
had stepped forward, that some one had placed her 
hand in the firm, tender clasp of Niles’ and that he was 
speaking again, repeating his troth to her, and presently 
she found herself saying steadily, composedly, the 
words which that solemn intoning voice prompted. 

“. . . . my wedded husband . . . from this day 
forward . . . till death us do part ... I give thee 
my troth.” 

The cool, narrow circlet of Niles’ ring slipped down 
over her finger. She could feel it cutting into her 
flesh from the unconscious strength with which he held 
it there but she only nestled her hand the more closely 
in his. She knew that they knelt in prayer but it was 
only when they had risen and the organ and full choir 
burst upon her ears in a joyous paean that Claudia’s 
consciousness returned to her in full measure, although 
the exaltation remained. 

Niles Hamersley drew her hand gently within his 
arm, pressing it against his side with a wealth of ten¬ 
derness, and her fingers closed shyly upon his sleeve 
as they started down the aisle. Here and there fa¬ 
miliar faces smiled upon her from the close-packed 
throng, but down in one of the last rows near the door 


Vow and Covenant 27 

one countenance seemed to leap out with the sudden 
clarity of a screen projection. 

It was that of a man totally strange to her who was 
seated at the end of the pew, a dark, oddly sardonic 
face which appeared to her startled eyes to be leering 
unaccountably at them. As they passed the man 
swayed or leaned out into the aisle and his voice grated 
upon her ears. The words uttered to the man at her 
side did not reach her, but the low, guttural tone was 
like the lash of a whip, and she could feel Niles’ whole 
body stiffen and his arm flex beneath the touch of her 
fingers. 

Had he made a slight, almost imperceptible gesture 
to the man at the end of the pew? Involuntarily 
Claudia glanced up into his face, and then it seemed 
to recede from her in a black swirling shadow of 
horror, but even as she faltered the shadow cleared 
and he was staring straight before him, his face as 
set and gray as though carved in stone. 

Claudia knew that she must be mad, that the emo¬ 
tions of that hour had temporarily deprived her of her 
senses, but she could not take her eyes from the grim 
mask of the man who was her husband. Surely when 
they reached the church doors, when they were in full 
daylight, this hideous vision would fade, the mask 
would fall! Her heart was pounding wildly and bands 
seemed tightening about her throat as her little, satin- 
shod feet sought the way blindly before her; but if 
Niles was conscious of her gaze he gave no sign. Like 
an automaton he walked beside her and so they 
reached the entrance. 


28 Dust to Dust 

Some one placed her cape about her and gave his 
hat to Niles, and then the outer doors were thrown 
open and the cold, steely light of the rainy day beat 
full upon them. Niles winced, it seemed to her horri¬ 
fied gaze that he cringed, and the stoical mask fell in¬ 
deed! Distorted with passion, his face was that of 
an utter stranger to her, as strange and hideous as 
that of the man at the end of the pew. Unconsciously 
she shrank away from him. 

The glistening umbrellas on either side of that 
sheltered aisle bobbed ecstatically once more and the 
scattered cheer rose again to gain in volume, but 
surely those were slow, stealthy footsteps following 
theirs! 

Claudia’s heart ceased to beat and settled like a dead 
thing in her breast while an ice-cold fluid raced through 
her veins. Did Niles hear those footsteps? Did he 
know? Surely his expression was changing, the rage 
was mingled now with other emotions which she could 
not read, but which rendered it no less repellent to con¬ 
template. The gray eyes were moving, darting light¬ 
ning-like glances from side to side, and the chiseled, 
mobile lips were moving too in a twisted fashion, 
while the gray pallor had deepened to a horrible, pasty 
semblance of dead flesh! 

Her hand slipped from his arm as they reached the 
waiting car with the chauffeur beaming beside it and 
holding the door expectantly open, but Claudia hesi¬ 
tated. Those footsteps had paused just behind them. 
All at once she felt Niles grip her elbow in a grasp of 


Vow and Covenant 29 

steel and she was lifted rather than aided into the car 
and dropped into her seat. 

Her veil caught on something but it was torn ruth¬ 
lessly free, and as she turned to gaze out the door 
Niles raised his foot to the step. 

A little, choking gasp escaped from Claudia’s lips, 
for a gloved hand had been laid upon her husband’s 
arm and over his shoulder appeared the dark, ugly 
face of the man who had accosted him in the church! 
It was not leering now, but glowering in an unmistak¬ 
ably menacing command, and Niles turned and spoke 
to him. 

The colloquy was brief, but to the stunned girl it 
seemed that countless ages passed before the man in 
whose hands she had just irrevocably placed herself 
turned again and thrust his head into the door of the 
limousine. 

“Claudia, something unforeseen has occurred—I can 
say no more here but don’t be frightened or alarmed. 
I want you to go back to your home and wait for me. 
We cannot leave the city to-day and you must make 
what explanations you can for our absence from the 
reception. I will come to you surely within a few 
hours—a day, at most. We mustn’t delay here 
another moment, for the guests are coming out—do 
you understand? You will go home—and wait?” 

Mutely she nodded and he turned to the astonished 
chauffeur. 

“Drive Mrs. Hamersley back to the house at once, 
please, and quickly. We have changed our plans.” 


30 


Dust to Dust 


For a moment the man hesitated, glancing in at 
Claudia, but she nodded again, forcing herself to ges¬ 
ture imperiously forward, and as he sprang up behind 
the wheel Niles spoke to her once more. 

“Claudia, for God’s sake don’t look like that! 
Claudia, wait—wait until I come to you!” 

She shrank back in her seat as the door closed and 
the car rolled off. Shudder after shudder shook her 
rigid body, for at last she had read his expression 
aright. Passion was there, a rage almost murderous 
in its intensity, but it was overshadowed by fear. Fear 
and—guilt! 


CHAPTER III 


HOURS OF DARKNESS 

H OW she reached home Claudia never after¬ 
wards knew. As the chauffeur sent the car 
forward she was subconsciously aware of curi¬ 
ous faces peering in at the solitary figure in bridal 
array; she pulled down the curtains at the windows 
with blindly fumbling hands and then sank back again. 

She felt only the numbing shock of one regaining con¬ 
sciousness after falling from a great height and it 
seemed that a paralysis had settled alike over brain 
and heart and body. Suffering would come when she 
could think and feel again but now she had only the 
primitive instinct of a wounded creature to seek its 
accustomed shelter. The car, gliding so smoothly 
over the wet pavement, seemed to make no progress. 
If only she were home ! Home! Surely hours, years 
had passed since she had left it with Uncle Matt, since 
she had felt old Annie’s tremulous arms about her in 
that last loving farewell! 

But had it really been she? That girl of the morn¬ 
ing with her hopes and dreams and strange, unreal 
happiness—what had become of her? Had she actu¬ 
ally existed or was she merely a figment of the con¬ 
fused, disordered fancies which appeared to have 
taken the place of memory? Impersonally, Claudia 
found herself rather pitying that other girl who had 
31 


32 Dust to Dust 

been so innocently, arrogantly assured that no blow 
could ever fall upon her, that she was immune from all 
harm. She was gone forever, blotted out of existence 
as a candle’s light is snuffed and only the shell of her 
remained. 

The car stopped at last, the door opened and the 
chauffeur with a wooden countenance assisted her to 
alight. 

“I—” Claudia paused and began again with pain¬ 
ful deliberation: “We shall not need you again to-day, 
John.” 

“Very good, ma’am.” John’s honest face crim¬ 
soned and he opened his lips to speak, but if he had 
intended to offer his congratulations something in his 
employer’s expression stopped him. Instead he asked: 
“Shall I call up in the morning as usual?” 

A little knot of people had gathered once more 
to stare and gape at the bride, and Claudia inclined her 
head and then went swiftly up the steps. As she 
reached out her hand to sound the bell the door opened 
and Annie held out both arms to her in wordless con¬ 
sternation. 

“It’s all right, Annie,” Claudia said through stiff¬ 
ened lips. “Shut the door quickly.” 

“But, my lamb, what is it?” the old woman asked 
fearfully as she obeyed. “What has gone wrong? Oh, 
I felt it, I knew it! Something dreadful has happened 
to stop the marriage—!” 

“No,” replied Claudia, and the dead thing which 
was her heart weighed still heavier in her breast. “I 
am married, Annie. Mr. Hamersley was called away 


Hours of Darkness 33 

suddenly just after the ceremony and of course I 
couldn’t go to the reception without him. I want to 
change my gown.” 

She started for the stairs but her old nurse clutched 
at her sleeve. 

“ ‘Called away!’ ” she echoed. “What should call 
a man away without the wife he’d just taken? Miss 
Claudia, look at me! There’s something back of all 
this—!” 

The sharp ringing of the telephone interrupted her, 
and Claudia went with leaden feet into the library and 
took up the receiver. Her absence from the reception 
must already have been discovered and her pride re¬ 
volted at the thought of the whispers which must even 
now be starting, to spread presently into a hideous 
chorus of scandal. No matter what the future might 
hold, no matter what horrible thing from Niles Ha- 
mersley’s past had brought that expression to his face, 
the other name which she had borne until that hour 
must be upheld. 

“Claudia, is that you?” Matthew Rowe’s voice 
came to her, peremptory with anxiety. “What is the 
meaning of this? What has happened? Why are 
you there alone?” 

So he knew! Claudia’s heart began to beat heav¬ 
ily but she schooled herself to reply calmly and natu¬ 
rally : 

“I’m awfully sorry, Uncle Matt. I hope you’ll for¬ 
give us. Just tell the people that we have played a 
trick on you and stolen away on our honeymoon with¬ 
out attending—” 


34 


Dust to Dust 

“That’s all very well!” he interrupted her tersely. 
“I’ll make all the excuses possible but I want an ex¬ 
planation myself! People are bound to know that 
Hamersley left you at the church door; one of the 
ushers saw a man follow you and stop your husband 
just as he was getting into the car, and you drove off 
alone. My God, what does it mean?” 

“I cannot explain over the telephone, Uncle Matt. 
Something has occurred which made it absolutely 
necessary for Niles to absent himself for a short time 
but I am waiting for him now.” She caught her breath 
and for an instant her teeth bit deeply into her lower 
lip. Then she went hurriedly on: “I’ll write to you 
as soon as I can and explain. Nothing is wrong ex¬ 
cept our rudeness in treating you this way, but please 
believe that it was unavoidable.” 

“Claudia, it’s no use. I am acting as your father 
would have done and I know you’re in trouble. I 
shall be at the station when the time comes for your 
train and if you are not there I am coming straight up 
to the house and find out the truth!” 

His tones rang with the determination which the 
girl knew would brook no denial and her dazed brain 
strove wildly for a means of putting him off. 

“Dear Uncle Matt, there isn’t any trouble, really!” 
She tried to laugh lightly but checked herself at the 
rising note of hysteria which sounded in her own ears. 
“Don’t you know I would have sent for you if 
there had been? Please wait until you hear from 
me—?” 

“If you are not at the station I shall come,” he in- 


Hours of Darkness 35 

terrupted once more, and she heard the click of the 
receiver as he rang off. 

“Oh, dearie, let Mr. Rowe come to you!” Annie 
stood wringing her hands in the doorway. “If Mr. 
Hamersley has deserted you—” 

“Be quiet!” Claudia’s tense nerves snapped at last 
and she spoke in a tone the old woman had never heard 
before. “Do not dare to utter another word! George 
will return now at any minute and when Mr. Rowe 
calls late this afternoon he is to tell him I have gone 
to join my husband. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, Miss Claudia,” Annie faltered meekly and 
followed as her mistress swept past her and up the 
stairs. 

Claudia hesitated for an instant on the threshold 
of her room and then, entering, went slowly to the 
mirror. Could that drawn, white face be indeed her 
own, those hard, tearless, staring eyes and colorless 
lips be the same which had smiled back at her so hap¬ 
pily only an hour before? No wonder John had been 
embarrassed and Annie filled with amazement and 
concern! 

She must brace herself for just a few minutes longer 
and endure the faithful old creature’s lamentations 
until she could dismiss her and be alone with her 
thoughts. 

With a sudden, swift movement she tore the veil 
with its coronet of orange blossoms from her head and 
tossed aside the bouquet whose cloying odors stifled 
her. Annie, who had entered at her heels, said noth¬ 
ing but commenced to unfasten the wedding gown 


36 Dust to Dust 

with shaking fingers, her face working in the effort to 
keep back her tears. When her task was only half 
completed Claudia stripped the gown from her and 
dropping into a chair drew off the satin slippers as 
though their very touch were contamination. 

“You won’t put on your traveling dress just yet, 
Miss Claudia?” Annie ventured at last. 

“No. We are not going to leave town to-day. Mr. 
Hamersley may not return before to-morrow or the 
next day, Annie.” She reached up and took the old 
woman’s hands contritely in both of hers. “I’m sorry 
I spoke to you as I did just now. I know I have always 
told you everything but this is different; it’s something 
of the utmost importance to Mr. Hamersley—to us 
both—and I can’t discuss it even with you. Please 
don’t be silly and cry or ask me any more questions, 
for everything will be all right.” 

Annie shook her head, sighing. 

“I’ll not ask, but I didn’t bring you up from a baby 
without knowing you better than anybody alive and 
you can’t deceive me. Well I knew when you all but 
broke the mirror the very day after you was first en¬ 
gaged and then the picture fell in—in the closed room 
overhead that grief and misfortune would come. I 
didn’t think to see it happen so soon, though, and like 
this! Think of the talk it’ll make already, with every¬ 
body waiting at the reception! After all we’ve been 
through and never a whisper—!” 

She checked herself hastily, with an involuntary 
glance ceilingward, but Claudia was too deeply en¬ 
grossed in her own wretched thoughts to give heed. 


Hours of Darkness 37 

“It can’t be helped,” she said shortly. “Just put me 
into something loose and comfy, Annie, and then leave 
me for a while. I’m going to lie down but I’ll ring 
when I want you. Don’t forget that message for 
George.” 

“The cook and the rest of the maids have started 
already on their vacation but I’ll make you a nice, 
hot cup of tea and a bite of lunch right away,” the old 
woman announced firmly. “I know what’s best for 
you, Miss Claudia!” 

She bustled out of the room and Claudia threw her¬ 
self on the bed, crossing her arms over her hot, dry 
eyes. 

The scene in the church rose before her mental vi¬ 
sion once more and she strove to recall every detail, 
seeking to find some key to the hideous problem. One 
thing was certain; the blow had fallen as unexpectedly 
on Niles Hamersley as it had upon herself. When he 
stood beside her at the altar no premonition that this 
specter from the past would arise to confront him 
could have entered his mind. 

She recalled the sudden stiffening of his whole body, 
the involuntary tensing of the muscles of the arm upon 
which her hand rested as he recognized the man at the 
end of the pew and the harsh, low words grated on 
his ears. Looking back, Claudia was sure now that 
with his free arm he must have made that gesture 
which at first she only fancied; the intruder had been 
about to make a scene there and then but Niles had 
motioned him outside. 

Whatever its nature, the shock must have been 


38 Dust to Dust 

frightful indeed to bring that look of rigid immobility 
to his face. Then rage had come, a blind fury of which 
she would never have believed him capable, but after 
that he was afraid—afraid! The fear had been as un¬ 
mistakable as the revelation of secret guilt, the ad¬ 
mission written upon his gray, distorted features that 
the Nemesis which had overtaken him at this trium¬ 
phant moment of his life was a deserved one! 

Annie entered and placed a tray on the low stand at 
her elbow, but Claudia did not move nor speak and 
when the door had closed softly once more her tor¬ 
mented thought went back again to that scene at the 
church door. The face of the stranger was indelibly 
imprinted on her memory and she felt that she would 
know him again though fifty years should pass. 
Sallow rather than swarthy, with a broad, flat nose, 
thin, sharply modeled lips of astonishing, repulsive 
redness, straight black brows and dark, narrowed eyes 
with the sullen glitter of a snake’s between the heavy 
lids, the man would have been distinctive anywhere in 
spite of his comparatively small, slight stature. She 
remembered the gloved hand that had clutched at 
Niles Hamersley’s arm, almost feminine in its slender¬ 
ness of outline. His attire had been correct enough, 
but something oddly, intangibly foreign about him 
returned now confusedly to Claudia’s mind, although 
she could not associate it with any nationality familiar 
to her. 

The stranger was emphatically not of their own 
class, but as obviously not of the underworld. Little 
as she knew of the dregs of humanity the girl had 


Hours of Darkness 39 

realized that in one startled glance. Where had he 
and her husband met before, and what was the nature 
of the grim bond between them? 

Her husband! Claudia shuddered from head to 
foot, and the waves of alternate heat and cold which 
swept over her made her clench her hands and set her 
teeth. The Niles Hamersley whom she had known, 
the calm, inscrutable, magnetic personality which had 
so attracted her from the first and then carried her 
heart by storm in the swift, ardent flame of his woo¬ 
ing, had vanished. Could it be that he had never ex¬ 
isted save in her own infatuated eyes? His ring was 
on her finger and she must bear his name as long as 
they both should live, but it was the ring and name of 
a stranger, and one from whom she shrank in un¬ 
utterable repulsion. 

No thought of openly evading the issue entered her 
mind. For better or worse she was Niles Hamersley’s 
wife in the eyes of the world, at least, and so she must 
remain, no matter what shadow hung over him. The 
step which she had taken that noon was indeed irrev¬ 
ocable, as Uncle Matt had warned her.—Why had 
he spoken in such solemn admonition even at the elev¬ 
enth hour? If he had known or suspected the faintest 
cloud upon the character or reputation of the man she 
had chosen the marriage would never have been per¬ 
mitted to take place. Claudia knew well that the 
attorney who had been a lifelong intimate of the fam¬ 
ily was as jealous of its good name as he was solici¬ 
tous for her happiness. 

Had he really said all that he meant, there at the 


40 


Dust to Dust 

foot of the stairs? He asked if she were sure of her¬ 
self, of her own mind and heart, but had he not rather 
intended to convey a suggestion as to her confidence in 
the man to whom she was about to entrust herself? 
Aware of the exactitude of his legal mind she realized 
that he would insinuate nothing based on mere unrea¬ 
soning prejudice, and now in retrospection the convic¬ 
tion was borne in upon her that he had never liked 
Niles. 

When she sent for him and told him of her engage¬ 
ment he had taken the announcement quietly enough, 
without surprise and only an added seriousness, a 
deepened kindliness in his paternal tones as he con¬ 
gratulated her, and she had been too engrossed in her 
own happiness to note any lack of whole-hearted cor¬ 
diality in his attitude. Claudia could not recall that 
he had then or later made any reference either to Niles 
Hamersley himself or to the wisdom of her choice, and 
she wondered now that his reticence had escaped her. 
But surely he was the only one—? 

A swift stab of memory brought her bolt upright on 
the bed, her wavering hands at her throat. Stephen! 
Stephen Munson her old playmate! What was it he 
had said? As plainly as though he stood before her, 
his words rang again in her ears:—“There is some¬ 
thing hidden and furtive about him—sinister, if you 
like. There is a shadow upon him! ... I feel it— 
here! . . . It can bring you only suffering—tragedy!” 

Had the idealistic dreamer been more psychic than 
she knew when she sent him from her in anger? 
Claudia sprang up and began pacing the floor as the 


Hours of Darkness 41 

gray day dimmed in a grayer twilight. The astute, 
hardheaded, practical lawyer, the boy with the flame 
of genius in his soul—what had these two widely dis¬ 
similar natures been able to sense and feel which had 
been hidden from her? 

All at once she paused and then crept softly to the 
door, for the bell had resounded through the house. 
Had he come to her to make his belated explanation? 
Had some one—that dreadful stranger, perhaps— 
brought news of him, news which would mean only an 
added blow? 

The next moment she heard Uncle Matt’s deep, 
concerned tones in the hall and George’s quavering 
ones delivering her message. So the hour had come 
and gone which was to have seen her started upon 
her wedding journey, the first step on the long road 
of happiness she had fondly believed lay before her! 
She drew in her breath with a dry, quivering sob and 
then listened intently once more. George was not good 
at dissembling and she knew that the inexplicable 
event must have shaken him even more than it had 
Annie. Could she hope that he would be able to de¬ 
ceive the sharp-eyed, keen-witted attorney? 

But there came the low, indistinguishable rumble of 
Uncle Matt’s voice again and then to her relief the 
muffled thud of the closing front door. Whether he 
believed or not, he had gone, she was to be left undis¬ 
turbed to her tortured thoughts. 

Twilight deepened to darkness and still Claudia 
paced the floor in agonizing conjecture. What was 
this secret which Niles had kept from her and from all 


42 Dust to Dust 

the world? No doubt entered her mind but that he 
loved her; whatever this nature held that was now so 
utterly strange and alien to her, he had wanted her 
for herself alone. The knowledge of this brought no 
tenderness, no softening of her outraged spirit but the 
memory of his eager, quickening kisses upon her eyes 
and lips and throat made her shudder with repulsion 
and loathing, and she flung herself face downward 
upon her bed. 

What sort of man was this whose name she bore? 
What had he done, of what unnameable thing was he 
guilty, that that sly, evil-faced interloper had suffi¬ 
cient hold upon him to drag him away from his newly- 
made wife under the eyes of all their world? Was it 
—crime ? 

Claudia’s very soul writhed at the thought. She, 
Claudia Langham, had been deceived, betrayed! 
Trustingly she had relinquished a proud and spotless 
name for one under a cloud of Heaven knew what in¬ 
iquity and dishonor. The man who in love and un¬ 
questioning faith she had placed above all others had 
become her enemy! He had killed her love, dragged 
her faith and pride in the dust, made a mockery of all 
she held sacred! 

No suggestion came to her mind that she might be 
misjudging him; instinct, which had slept so long, was 
awake now, aroused by that unforgettable revelation 
of fear and guilt upon his face. Whether he had 
broken the law of God or man he had as surely sinned, 
and now he cowered and cringed before the retribution 
that had come. 


Hours of Darkness 43 

Time passed unheeded by Claudia in the depths of 
her travail. She was aware that Annie tiptoed in, un¬ 
bidden* at long intervals, first to remove the tray and 
exclaim softly over its untouched contents and again 
to cover her snugly and open the windows. The rain 
had ceased and the gentle night wind brought with it 
the clean, fresh odor of wet earth and dripping trees 
in the Square. Now and then a car rolled past and the 
distant rumble of busses under the Arch came in a 
subdued monotone to her ears. Once a group of young 
people passed, singing the latest popular air. At 
length Annie came again and this time she made no 
particular effort at silence but lighted the low lamps 
determinedly and then advanced to the bed. 

“Come, Miss Claudia! Goodness knows I hate to 
wake you but it ain’t right for you to lie there like 
that, with nothing a-past your lips since morning. 
Do you know it’s near midnight?” She drew down the 
coverlet and shook her mistress gently. “I’ve fixed a 
nice, hot supper for you and it won’t do any good to 
send me away: I won’t stir a step till you have eaten 
it and I get you put to bed right.” 

Claudia protested, but in vain, and the sooner to 
rid herself of the unbearably solicitous presence of 
the old nurse she forced herself to eat a few mouthfuls 
of food and drink a cup of tea, then passively sub¬ 
mitted to being prepared for the night. 

Only twelve o’clock! There were hours and hours 
of darkness before her, but what would the dawn 
of the new day bring? Niles Hamersley would come 
to her as soon as he was at liberty to do so, she had 


44 Dust to Dust 

no doubt of that, but what hideous fruit would the 
coming interview bear? If he were able to avert what¬ 
ever danger of retribution or punishment hung over 
him, could he hope to blind her with specious excuses, 
cajole her into forgetfulness of that expression she 
had seen upon his face, by renewed protestations of 
the love which was now a bestial thing in her sight? 
Claudia sickened at the thought and when Annie had 
gone at last she rose and locked the door, with a 
glance at the little boudoir clock on the mantel. 

Half-past twelve! Where was he now, with the 
creature who shared his guilty knowledge or before 
his judges? If he had committed a crime in the eyes 
of the law, could that man have been a detective? 
Would the horrible, sordid facts be blazoned to the 
world on the morrow, shrieking in headlines from 
every newspaper in the city? Her blood chilled, but 
then a swift intuition reassured her on that score. That 
stranger might have been Niles Hamersley’s accom¬ 
plice, his associate in that act of the past, but he was 
no officer of the law. His own manner had been too 
furtive and stealthy, and, overwrought as Claudia 
was, she realized that if Niles were sought by the 
police, his arrest would have been accomplished quietly, 
in no such spectacular and melodramatic fashion. 

Neither had the man been a victim of whatever 
Niles had done, for although he had conveyed a covert 
threat his expression had been triumphant rather than 
vengeful. He held the whip hand and knew it, and 
his significant leer showed that he enjoyed with almost 
fiendish malice the situation which he had created. 


Hours of Darkness 45 

No. Whatever this hideous thing was in Niles’ past 
it could not have been a crime which came under the 
statutes, or at least the authorities had not yet con¬ 
nected him with such an act, for he had made no at¬ 
tempt at concealment. Surely a man who was 
“wanted,” a man on whom the hand of the law might 
be laid at any moment,would not have lived as he had 
for the past two years at least, taking a prominent part 
in the social life of the most exclusive circles in the city 
and at the resorts where all the world gathered! His 
picture had frequently been in the papers in connection 
with various society sporting events, and the list of the 
clubs in town and country which had welcomed him to 
membership during the past two years. . . . 

A single, silvery chime had long since sounded from 
the little clock but Claudia had not heard it, and now 
she sat crouched upon the bed with her arms clasped 
about her drawn-up knees staring straight before her 
as a hitherto disregarded fact was impressed upon her 
consciousness. 

Two years! Everything that she or her world actu¬ 
ally knew about the man she had married dated back 
only to two years ago! Feverishly her mind raced 
back over the past. At the time of her debut there 
had been no Niles Hamersley on the social horizon but 
later during the season casual references had been 
made to him by some of the older men as a coming fin¬ 
ancier and by the younger as a thoroughgoing sports¬ 
man. His money, his unquestionable breeding and 
knowledge of the world, as well as his good looks, had 
carried him far; but, more than all, it must have been 


46 Dust to Dust 

that strangely compelling, magnetic personality of his 
that had so quickly won him a place in the unsuspecting 
innermost circles of a society which for the last genera¬ 
tion had been growing more and more lax and tolerant 
of newcomers. 

Claudia had met him first at a house party during 
that bewildering round of visits two summers before. 
He had impressed her as being quite the most good- 
looking man she had ever seen, but rather gravely aloof 
and dignified. It was only when he held her in his 
arms in their first dance together that she had felt 
consciously attracted to him. Somehow, she had 
never forgotten that first dance, but during the brief, 
quickly passing weeks of that summer, although she 
seemed to encounter him everywhere, he had shown 
her no more attention than he paid to the other favored 
debutantes of the season, seeming to prefer the so¬ 
ciety of the older, married people. 

Then came her father’s sudden death and her own 
social retirement, and beyond a brief, conventional 
note of condolence she had heard nothing from Niles 
Hamersley for more than a year, although his name 
was frequently mentioned and she knew now that he 
had never been quite out of her thoughts. 

A chance encounter a few months before, when she 
was returning from the settlement work to which she 
had turned in her solitude, an invitation to tea, the 
delightful discovery of kindred tastes and a mutual 
interest in art and music—how quickly the renewed 
acquaintance had drifted into friendship and then in¬ 
fatuation ! 


Hours of Darkness 47 

Two o’clock! How still the house was! No 
slightest sound came in through the opened windows 
and a brooding silence seemed to have settled down 
over all the world while she kept vigil alone, waiting 
for the morrow and what it might bring forth. 

Claudia longed for yet dreaded the dawn. What¬ 
ever Niles’ secret, it was a shameful one; she had read 
that in his face as well as the fact that unexpected ret¬ 
ribution had come. He had not trusted her—ah, if 
he only had! If only that thing which he had done 
were something which she could have forgiven, some 
terrible mistake which she might have helped him 
to rectify, the consequences of which she might have 
borne with him, proud to share his expiation! He 
knew that she loved him and desiring her he had de¬ 
liberately taken advantage of her love and of her 
lonely, unprotected state to make her his own, risking 
the chance that the black shadow of his past might roll 
up once more and engulf her as well as himself. God, 
how she hated him! The knowledge of his treachery 
and deceit revealed him to her in a new and baleful 
light, and from the man of her dreams he had become 
a monster of unknown depths of depravity, a creature 
unfit to live! 

Why should he live? If his secret was a dishonor¬ 
able one, as it must be, he had dishonored her in plac¬ 
ing that ring upon her finger, making her one with 
him to endure this horror from a past in which she had 
had no part. If there was any higher justice, why did 
not death take him now and free her from the shackles 
which he had forged? He had wronged her unspeak- 


48 Dust to Dust 

ably that day, whatever his previous wrongdoing mignt 
have been, and if her father were alive, Claudia knew, 
even while she shrank from the thought, that the man 
who had dared to join his tarnished name to their un¬ 
sullied one would not live to drag her down in his own 
infamy. 

Her father! A passionate longing for his dear 
presence welled up within her and for the first time 
since the shock of her disillusionment hot, stinging tears 
blinded her. To feel his protective arms about her, 
to hear his voice, see his face—! On a sudden im¬ 
pulse she rose and drew on a robe, then taking a port¬ 
able lamp from her dressing table she unlocked the 
door softly. 

A gentle snore greeted her and in the dim light she 
saw Annie huddled in a chair, a shapeless, most un¬ 
lovely figure wrapped in a rug with wisps of gray 
hair falling over her wrinkled, witchlike face, yet as 
the girl regarded her her aching heart warmed. Dear, 
faithful old soul! With old George, helpless but loyal, 
and Matthew Rowe’s advice and friendship to lean 
upon if open scandal and disgrace should come, she 
was not utterly alone and forsaken! 

Slipping noiselessly past the sleeper, Claudia crossed 
the hall and opened another, seldom-used door to find 
herself in a huge, somberly furnished bedroom, 
scrupulously clean, but with the unmistakable atmos¬ 
phere of being long untenanted. Over the mantel 
there hung a painting of a young woman seated in a 
chair and a man posed stiffly behind her. The woman’s 
dress was that of the middle ’nineties but her face 


Hours of Darkness 49 

might have been that of the girl who stood gazing 
yearningly on them both. 

Did her father and mother know the horror which 
had come into her life? Did they know that she was 
linked irrevocably with a man of whom she knew noth¬ 
ing except that he was under some fearful cloud and 
that unless exposure came she must take her place be¬ 
side him, his wife in name if not in fact? Even though 
his past were laid bare to the world she would still 
be his wife. Why must she endure the future which 
stretched before her? Why could she not die and go 
to her father and mother? They at least would un¬ 
derstand, for she had often heard her father express 
the conviction that, coming into the world without voli¬ 
tion, it was one’s privilege to remove oneself from it 
when it became a place intolerable to exist in. 

Fascinated, the impulse took root in Claudia’s half- 
distraught brain and as a deep-toned clock sounded 
three muffled, solemn strokes from below she turned 
and stumbled blindly to her father’s old desk. It was 
a shabby affair, relegated here from the study when he 
refused to part with it and now, as she turned the 
rusty key and opened it, a little cloud of dust from 
decayed, crumbling papers arose chokingly. She pushed 
the papers aside and her sure fingers found and pressed 
the spring which opened a concealed drawer. 

There lay her father’s revolver, together with the 
box of cartridges and a bit of oil-soaked was^te. 
Claudia placed the lamp beside her and, taking up the 
revolver with feverish haste, she cleaned and loaded 
it, then thrust it into the bosom of her robe and with 


50 Dust to Dust 

a last deprecating glance at the pictured faces as 
though for approval she slipped noiselessly from the 
room. She would wait until Niles Hamersley came 
to her, until she could wring the truth from him and 
then, if it meant a hopeless future, she would know 
what to do. 

The thought of her own room, with Annie presently 
to awaken outside and hover maddeningly about her, 
was unendurable. If she could only lock herself away 
somewhere in assured solitude perhaps peace would 
come and strength to face the new day which would 
dawn now in an hour or two. If there was only some 
forgotten nook or corner. . . . 

The cupola! It was there she had taken all her 
childish griefs and perplexities since first her tiny feet 
had been able to negotiate the ladder-like stairs lead¬ 
ing up from the huge, dusty attic that covered all the 
top of the house. The cupola, scarcely fifteen feet 
square and rising like a low tower from the center of 
the roof, had proved a splendid playroom, too, and 
here most of her earlier treasures were still gathered. 
She had not visited this childhood sanctuary for years 
but now her eager feet sought the stairs. On the floor 
above she went silently past the sealed room directly 
over her own and to the short staircase at the rear 
that led to the attic. 

It seemed evident that, left to superannuated 
hands, the house had not been as well cared for as she 
had believed, for the attic must have been long un¬ 
visited. Dust rose blindingly, stiflingly before her with 
each step and in the faint rays of her lamp it lay 


Hours of Darkness 51 

everywhere like a velvety gray mantle. Unthinkingly 
Claudia was advancing straight toward the flight of 
steps leading to the cupola, when, directly above that 
sealed room, she felt a treacherous board give way 
beneath her weight and hurriedly she retreated to 
where she remembered a stout beam Supported the 
rotten flooring. It had always been unsafe in spots, 
even for her weight as a child, but she had learned to 
pick her way in a roundabout fashion to the cupola 
steps and now she followed the same path. 

The small, high chamber was more thickly overlaid 
with dust even than the attic below, but the air was 
less musty, for a broken windowpane admitted the 
cool night breeze, and the sight of the dolls seated in a 
patient, dejected row against the opposite wall brought 
a little reminiscent smile to the girl’s lips despite her 
mental anguish. 

The revolver lay like a cold, dead weight against 
her breast. She placed it on the miniature tea-table 
which occupied the center of the floor, then curled 
herself up in a corner with the lamp beside her and 
absent-mindedly took up the largest of the dolls. A 
merciful lethargy was stealing over her bruised spirit 
and the events of yesterday seemed like a dream. Had 
she really stood beside Niles Hamersley at the altar 
of that brilliantly thronged church? Had that evil¬ 
looking stranger actually sprung from nowhere to 
take him from her or was he, too, part of this night¬ 
mare from which she would soon awaken? The com¬ 
ing day and what it would bring seemed all at once of 
less vital importance, and as the east lightened her 


52 Dust to Dust 

head drooped lower and lower until it rested gently on 
her breast. 

It was thus that, hours later, after a frantic search, 
old Annie found her with the broad sunlight turning 
her hair to gold and the dusty doll cradled in her arms. 


CHAPTER IV 


BENEATH HIS FEET 

W ALKING carefully over the attic floor in her 
own earlier footprints in the dust, as her 
old nurse had done, Claudia permitted her¬ 
self to be led down to her room and bathed and put 
to bed again like a child. Exhausted with her emo¬ 
tions she fell once more into a heavy slumber and it 
was high noon when she awakened. Now her brain 
was clear, however, and her pulses steady and she found 
herself able to review the events of the previous day 
and consider the possibilities of the present one from 
a more sane and dispassionate standpoint. 

Her love for Niles Hamersley was dead but she 
bore his name and they must have a thorough under¬ 
standing. Had there been any word received from 
him? Her pride would not allow her to inquire, but 
when Annie brought her breakfast tray she saw from 
the old woman’s face that there was no news. Yet 
he would come! Somehow she was certain of it with 
a curious, fatalistic finality, and she arose and dressed 
calmly in preparation for the coming interview. 

The newspapers, which she obtained from Annie 
after a brief argument, all featured the wedding but 
there was no hint of scandal, although none failed to 
mention the absence of the bridal couple from the re¬ 
ception and one or two of the more sensational stated 
53 


54 Dust to Dust 

in careful terms that the bridegroom had been sud¬ 
denly called away as they left the church and his bride 
had driven off alone. They added, however, that the 
couple had met by appointment later in the afternoon 
and were now presumably on their honeymoon. 

Matthew Rowe’s influential hand was visible back 
of this discreet editing and Claudia thrilled with grati¬ 
tude toward him. How abominably he must think she 
had treated him, and yet there was no help for it. It 
was possibly but the beginning of a lifetime of dis¬ 
simulation, a part of the price she must pay for what, 
she now realized, was her own mistake in trusting wil¬ 
fully to the dictates of her emotions. 

The long hours of that sunny afternoon dragged 
interminably, longer even than the dark ones of the 
preceding night had seemed, and yet she waited with 
such intuitive confidence that when at last the bell 
pealed its summons through the house she heard it 
with no surprise and was halfway down the main 
staircase when old George opened the door to admit 
her husband. 

Claudia felt her heart pounding suddenly, suffo¬ 
catingly, and her hands turned icy cold as she paused, 
looking down at him. Niles Hamersley halted, too, 
on the threshold, and for a moment they regarded 
each other silently, not like reunited lovers but like 
antagonists measuring one another before the fray. 
The girl sensed this clash of wills in the very atmos¬ 
phere but it only lent strength to her own and as she 
descended the remaining steps she announced with 
perfect composure: 


Beneath His Feet 55 

“You need not wait, George. I will take Mr. 
Hamersley’s hat and stick and if he requires anything 
he will ring.” 

She had, tentatively at least, placed him in his posi¬ 
tion as master of the house and the dull flush which 
mounted in Niles Hamersley’s haggard face showed 
that he appreciated the fact even before his words 
came. 

“Thank you,” he said in a low, shaking voice as 
George tottered hurriedly off down the hall. “Thank 
you, too, for waiting for me so patiently as I asked. 
It was a bothersome business and doubly unfortunate 
that it should have come up that moment of all others 
but you handled the situation splendidly—about the 
reception, I mean—and now the whole unpleasant in¬ 
cident is closed. Oh, Claudia, my darling—!” 

He was advancing toward her with outstretched 
arms but Claudia stepped back. “Bothersome busi¬ 
ness! . . . unpleasant incident!” Could she believe 
her ears? 

“Wait!” Her voice, too, was low but it rang with 
command. “I think there is a little more than that 
to be said between us. Will you come into the draw¬ 
ing-room?” 

He bowed his head and followed her in silence, but 
he closed the door determinedly behind him and when 
she seated herself he confronted her with a masterful 
air. 

“I know, dear, how deeply hurt you must be at the 
affront I seem to have given you and how bitterly you 
must resent what took place! I can’t tell you how 


56 Dust to Dust 

sorry I am, I would cheerfully give half my life to 
have avoided that scene for your sake, and every mo¬ 
ment since has been like a year till I could get back 
to you!” He spoke gently, his tones still shaken with 
emotion. “If you knew how tortured I have been, 
how afraid that you might not after all have faith in 
me! Then the thought that you too must be suffer¬ 
ing, aside from the humiliation —Claudia, forgive 
me!” 

“I do not know what I have to forgive—yet,” she 
replied, meeting his eyes with a clear, steady gaze. 
“I am waiting to hear.” 

His own eyes fell and he said hurriedly: 

“You have to forgive only that I left you so cava¬ 
lierly without explanation, that there may have been 
gossip among our friends or that we may have of¬ 
fended Mr. Rowe by not appearing at the reception. 
That is all—and aren’t these mere superficial things? 
I know you have worried, but that is past now. There 
is nothing else to forgive, my dearest! You must be¬ 
lieve that, you must have faith in me!” 

He paused but she did not speak and after a mo¬ 
ment he lifted his eyes to hers with an almost visible 
effort and went on: 

“That man you saw—I do not know how he man¬ 
aged to get into the church—he is some one I knew 
years ago and he came as a messenger on a matter of 
life and death. I can’t tell you any more, Claudia; it 
doesn’t concern me alone and I have no right to speak, 
even to you, my wife! Moreover it belongs to the 
past and although yesterday brought a reminder of it 


Beneath His Feet 57 

in a fashion which must have given you dreadful 
thoughts and fears, I can only give you my word, 
dear, that you have no cause for alarm or distrust in 
me. You will never see that man again, he will never 
intrude upon us and the affair is ended forever.” 

“Did you think it was ended when you asked me 
to be your wife?” 

“Good God, yes—!” he began but she interrupted 
him. 

“It wasn’t, though, was it? You think it is ended 
now. Is it? I am your wife, Niles, in that I bear your 
name and I have a right to know anything in your past 
that is likely to cast a cloud over the future.” 

The dull, heavy flush mounted again in his face and 
he responded doggedly: 

“I could lie to you, make up some plausible yarn to 
account for that man’s appearance, some excuse for 
leaving you and rushing off as I did, but I won’t, 
Claudia. You must have faith! The affair can never 
touch you in any way, it belongs now and forever to 
the past among the forgotten things and—it was not 
mine alone, even if I chose to disclose it. I know that 
I am asking much of you, more perhaps than the aver¬ 
age woman could accept, but you are not an average 
woman! You are big enough to realize that a man’s 
past is his own as long as it contains no other woman, 
and you are the only one who ever entered my life! 
You know that, my dearest, don’t you? You know 
that there was never any one but you!” 

Claudia made a little gesture of repulsion. 

“Yes, you could have lied to me, I suppose,” she 


58 Dust to Dust 

said slowly. “You could have tried to lie to me per¬ 
haps, but, Niles, you couldn’t have deceived me. You 
forget that I saw your face when that man laid his 
hand upon your arm. You were stunned when you 
first observed him in the church, as though you had 
seen a ghost; when he accosted you, you motioned him 
outside and you were furiously angry, but when he fol¬ 
lowed us to the car and spoke again, what he said 
made you afraid! There was abject, cowardly fear 
in your face, and guilt!” 

“What do you mean?” he demanded hoarsely. 

“I mean that I must know the truth! What have 
you done? Why did that man come?” Claudia rose. 
“You have taken from me a name that has been proud 
and honored for generations. What have you given 
me in its place?” 

“I am glad at least that you remember you are my 
wife!” Hamersley’s tones trembled once more, but 
this time with passion. “You cannot realize what you 
are saying! You speak as though I had committed a 
crime! I have nothing to fear and my guilt exists only 
in your own overwrought imagination. I will be pa¬ 
tient with you, for I have tried you sorely, but I can 
make no further explanation.” 

“You mean that you will not?” 

He bowed. 

“If you prefer to put it that way. In many a man’s 
past there is a Bluebeard’s chamber that does not nec¬ 
essarily contain the bodies of his former wives and 
yet, my dear, it is not well that his present one should 


Beneath His Feet 59 

pry into it. My past is my own, and it is dead and 
buried beyond resurrection. There was never any 
woman in it but you, and you are my wife! Will you 
try to forgive me for the humiliation of yesterday, 
and let us start afresh from this hour?” His anger 
had died as quickly as it had arisen and now he 
dropped to his knees beside her and sought to clasp 
her in his arms. Claudia drew back with such an un¬ 
mistakable expression of disgust and revulsion that he 
groaned: “Claudia, don’t look at me like that! You 
have nothing to fear, I tell you! There is nothing 
in the past which can come between us!” 

“It has, already and forever, Niles!” Claudia’s 
heart was beating now with almost physical pain but 
she spoke deliberately, relieved that the moment had 
come. “Love can’t exist without perfect confidence 
and trust; you know that. There is something in your 
life which I may not share, something hidden and ter¬ 
rible ! It has changed you utterly in my eyes and you 
are not the man I cared for. All that is over!” 

Hamersley rose, dusting his knees lightly, and 
shrugged. An odd light had come into his eyes, but 
he asked quietly: 

“What do you mean? What are you planning to 
do? You are my wife, you know. Nothing can alter 
that.” 

“I am your wife, yes.” She drew a deep breath. 
“There must be no scandal, no further gossip than 
that affair of yesterday has caused. I am willing to 
take up my life with you in the eyes of the world, 


60 Dust to Dust 

to preside in our home, entertain our friends, do every¬ 
thing to further your interests, but there is a barrier 
between us that nothing can ever remove.” 

“Claudia, you’re mad! Do you know what you are 
asking? Don’t you realize that I love you with all 
the love of a man who has never cared for another 
woman in all his life?” His own breath had quickened 
and he advanced toward her once more in a very pas¬ 
sion of entreaty. “You are hurt now, deeply wounded, 
but it is your pride, dear, not your heart! People 
don’t stop loving so easily and you did love me! I 
can make you care again, my darling! Give me one 
more chance!” 

“It is no use, Niles.” Claudia found herself 
wondering dully why she could listen to his pleading 
unmoved, but she was conscious only of a feeling of 
distaste, a dread lest he try to touch her again. Had 
she really ever cared for him, thrilled to his kisses, 
yielded joyously to his arms about her? His very 
face, familiar as it was to her, seemed somehow that 
of a stranger, and his voice awoke no echoes. How 
queer it was! “All that is at an end. That one 
glimpse of your face yesterday, that—that revelation 
of what you really are, killed something within me 
which can never be brought to life again. You mar¬ 
ried me, knowing that if you told me the truth about 
yourself I would never have consented to be your wife. 
In justice to me now, if your own interests do not de¬ 
mand it, there must be no open separation, no—no 
divorce! The world about us has been your world 
for the past two years, but it has been mine and that 


Beneath His Feet 61 

of my people for generations. I am the last of my 
family, and I am jealous of its traditions, of its pride, 
its honor! You are my husband in name and I look 
to you to help me uphold that pride and that honor I” 

“And what about me?” His voice had grown thick, 
unsteady, and the flush had deepened in his face, 
mottling it with ugly, purplish spots. “I love you, I 
am mad about you—and you are my wife! Do you 
realize the life you are proposing for me? Do you 
think that I could live here in this house with you, 
day after day, watching you, listening to your voice, 
loving you, wanting you—and with my arms empty of 
you? Claudia, you ask too much! You speak of jus¬ 
tice to yourself but how about my rights as your hus¬ 
band, my right to your love which you promised to me 
yesterday before the altar? Do you think you can 
cheat me of it now?” 

Before she could guess his intention he had seized 
her in his arms and was covering her face and throat 
with kisses which burned like a brand. Claudia strug¬ 
gled with all her might, but the hideous revulsion which 
swept over her sickened her and robbed her of all 
strength. To her horror she felt a deathly faintness 
creeping up from her heart. She tried to cry out, to 
pray, but in spite of herself she felt her body relaxing, 
sagging limply in his arms. 

Before utter unconsciousness came, however, Ha- 
mersley must have realized that he had gone too far 
for he loosened his hold upon her and with a last 
frantic effort she flung him off. 

“You beast! You loathsome, horrible beast!” For 


62 Dust to Dust 

an instant Claudia faced him panting and disheveled. 
Then she turned and, tearing the door open, darted up 
the stairs. If her first instinctive thought had been to 
lock herself in her own room, to hide there until he 
had gone out of the house and out of her life forever, 
she relinquished it in sudden terror, for to her con¬ 
sternation she heard a snarl of rage behind her and 
heavy feet upon the stairs. He was following and she 
would be helpless, with no protection but an infirm 
old man and woman, and they both beyond reach of 
her voice! Blindly, desperately, she fled on up the 
second flight of stairs and down the hall past the sealed 
door to the staircase leading to the attic. 

Infuriated by her scorn and loathing, Niles Ha- 
mersley followed, muttering curses beneath his panting 
breath. For the moment all civilization was stripped 
from him and with the primitive instinct of the beast 
which she had called him he dashed up the stairs and 
reached the attic just as she fled up the steps leading 
to the cupola. 

He halted for a moment, coughing in the cloud of 
dust her flying feet had raised and Claudia gazed des¬ 
perately about her. Her sanctuary had become a cul- 
de-sac, for the flimsy little door had neither key nor 
bolt and there was no other way out. With a little 
sob of terrified defeat she cowered over the toy tea 
table—and her fingers closed about the revolver which 
she had placed there in the dark hours of the night! 

She clutched it spasmodically and a sudden wave of 
courage rose within her as her resolution of those night 
hours returned. Life held nothing for her now in any 


Beneath His Feet 63 

event and surely it was far better to die than be at 
the mercy of the bestial creature advancing toward 
her! 

Turning, Claudia crouched in the doorway as Ha- 
mersley, unconsciously following in the same safe path¬ 
way her feet had made, crossed the attic floor to the 
lowest step of the short, steep stairs. 

“If you come one step farther I shall fire!” Claudia 
gasped, pressing the weapon against her breast. Had 
he heard and understood? Would he come to his 
senses and halt? 

But if Hamersley heard, her warning conveyed no 
meaning to his insensate brain. With a low, exultant 
laugh he sprang for the steps and the girl read the 
fury of purpose in his inflamed eyes. 

Closing her own, she tried to press the trigger, but 
the next instant Hamersley had leaped up to her and 
wrested the revolver from her grasp ! He turned it in 
his hands, unconsciously holding it by the butt with his 
own finger touching the trigger, and with the other arm 
sought to sweep her into a crushing embrace. 

She put her two hands against his breast and with 
all the force of her overwhelming terror pushed him 
backward down the steps. 

He paused for a moment leering at her, as Claudia 
clung to the door casing, staring down at him. Sud¬ 
denly there came an ominous snap and the crackle of 
decayed timbers, and the floor opened beneath his 
feet! An expression of sheer amazement, almost 
comic in its swift transition, wiped out the rage upon 
his face, and as he plunged downward his elbow struck 


64 Dust to Dust 

viciously against a stanchion. In his instinctive effort 
to grasp at support the palm of his hand closed upon 
the safety lock in the butt of the revolver and his 
clutching fingers pulled the trigger. 

The report was lost in the crash of rending beams, 
however, and the next instant he had disappeared, to 
land with a hideous, smashing jar in the room below! 

Claudia tried to move, to cry out, but her last ounce 
of strength had deserted her and no sound came from 
her quivering lips. She could only cling there, staring 
with horrified, incredulous eyes, but where Niles Ha- 
mersley had stood but a moment since only a great 
hole yawned, the dust rising from its edges like pil¬ 
lars of smoke! 


CHAPTER V 


THE OPENED DOOR 

G RADUALLY Claudia’s limbs gave way beneath 
her and she sank down upon the cupola steps, 
watching the spirals of smoke-like dust settle 
once more about that hideous, jagged aperture in the 
attic floor. Her breath came in great, sobbing gasps 
but she made no further effort to cry out, even when 
the dreadful silence was broken at last by hurried, 
stumbling feet upon the stairs. 

Old Annie, panting and holding her side, peered in 
at the doorway. 

“Oh, Miss Claudia, what is it?” she began. “There 
was a terrible noise that fair shook the house, and it 
seemed to me I heard somebody call—! Oh-h-h!” 

Her voice ended in a sudden shriek as she caught 
sight of the gaping hole in the floor and her faded 
eyes, dark with premonitory horror, met the dull, glaz¬ 
ing ones which the girl slowly raised to hers. 

Claudia swallowed painfully and forced her dry, 
rigid lips to utter the words which must be spoken, but 
her voice sounded toneless and strange in her own 
ears. 

“The—the floor gave way under him, Annie. He’s 
down—there!” 


65 


66 


Dust to Dust 

“My God!” The old woman started back, press¬ 
ing her hands over her withered mouth as though to 
stifle the scream which would have arisen. For a mo¬ 
ment longer she stared back at her young mistress and 
then her hands clasped and fell to her breast. “He’s 
fell into the sealed room! He must be hurt bad for 
there ain’t a sound—Don’t you move, dearie!” 

Dropping stiffly to her hands and knees she crept 
slowly forward, feeling her way along a beam, the 
jagged end of which protruded over the aperture. In 
sudden terror Claudia cried out: 

“Annie, you mustn’t! You—you’ll fall, too!” 

“I’ve got to see!” Annie retorted doggedly. “You 
stay where you are, Miss Claudia, and don’t call out 
like that! We don’t want George up here until we 
know what’s what!” 

She had almost reached the edge of the hole. 
Stretching herself out flat, she craned her neck and 
peered over. Claudia, watching, noted the uncontrol¬ 
lable shudder that shook the aged form and the tense 
rigidity which followed it, and she felt a chill as of 
death itself creeping over her own body. What did 
Annie see? If Niles Hamersley was lying there why 
didn’t she call down to him?—Oh, she must find out 
for herself! What was this horrible thing, this feeling 
which held her as though she were bound fast? 

Clawing at door casing and stair rail, Claudia 
managed by a supreme effort of will to drag herself to 
her feet, where she hovered, swaying. A roaring 
came to her ears and her vision clouded, but through 
the descending darkness Annie’s voice reached her. 


67 


The Opened Door 

“Wait! Don’t stir a step till I get to you!” There 
was a repressed note, almost of awe, in her shaking 
tones. “Just you bear up for a minute, dearie—!” 

The faintness passed and as the objects before her 
cleared once more Claudia saw the old woman crawl 
cautiously backward, then rise and advance toward her 
along the trail through the dust which their feet had 
made across the floor in the early dawn that seemed a 
hundred years ago. 

“Is—is he—?” The girl’s fearful whisper died 
away in her throat. Why did Annie not look at her, 
not meet her eyes? Why was there still no sound 
from that room below? “Tell me—!” 

“He’s—stunned, I guess. You’re going straight 
down to your room and stay there while I send for 
Mr. Rowe.” Annie’s face was still averted but she 
held out her arms as she reached the foot of the short 
flight of steps. “Come on, now, Miss Claudia—” 

“For Uncle Matt!” Claudia exclaimed. “But we 
must get a doctor if—if he is badly hurt!” 

“That sealed door’s got to be opened first and Mr. 
Rowe’ll have to come to do it, though I’ll have the 
doctor here too, waiting,” conceded Annie. “There, 
dearie, I’ll hold you. No, you keep away from that 
place ! There ain’t any need—!” 

As though fascinated, Claudia’s eyes had turned 
again to the great rent in the floor and she had taken 
a tentative step or two in that direction. Protesting, 
she nevertheless allowed herself to be led to the door 
and down the stairs, but on the threshold of her own 
room she collapsed utterly and would have fallen had 


68 Dust to Dust 

not the old woman, with unexpected strength, fairly 
carried her to the couch and laid her gently upon it. 
Everything whirled about her but through the void 
she saw again the startled, horrified face of Niles 
Hamersley as he flung up his arms and shot down¬ 
ward, and the rending crash of timbers seemed still 
to echo in her ears. 

She did not realize that Annie had left her until 
the other returned and, sitting beside the couch, com¬ 
menced to stroke her forehead. 

“The doctor won’t be in for half an hour but I left 
word for him, and Mr. Rowe’s on his way up quick’s 
he can get here,” she announced, and paused, adding: 
“Before they come, dearie, you’d better tell me what 
you two were doing up there in the attic, you at the 
cupola door and Mr. Hamersley walking around over 
that dangerous place in the floor. Didn’t you think 
to warn him?” 

Claudia shivered as the horror of the scene through 
which she had passed came over her again. 

“We had quarreled, Annie, and I had ordered him 
from the house.” She spoke in low gasps. “I could 
not tell you everything yesterday and I can’t now. He 
was a—beast, I—I was afraid of him and ran from 
his presence but he followed me!—Oh, don’t ask me 
any more, I can’t bear it! I—I never want to see him 
again, yet it is dreadful to think of him lying there 
behind that closed door with no help! Surely George 
could break it down!” 

“Mr. Rowe has the keys,” Annie returned. A thin 
white line had appeared about her lips. “I don’t want 


The Opened Door 69 

to pester you, the Lord knows, Miss Claudia, but it 
was because of what happened yesterday you ordered 
him out? He didn’t threaten you or anything, did 
he?” 

“I told you I was afraid of him,” the girl said 
simply. “Annie, I can’t ever live under the same roof 
with him, not for an hour! I thought I could, that, 
for the sake of what people would say, I could pretend 
to be happy, but oh, how mistaken I was! How ter¬ 
ribly mistaken in him!” 

She covered her face with her hands and did not 
see the look which flitted over the aged features, but 
now the note of awed significance in the reply pene¬ 
trated her consciousness like the tolling of a bell. 

“Never mind, my child, it’s all past now. You’ll 
never have to live with him. He won’t trouble you 
again in this world.” 

For an instant Claudia’s heart stopped, and then 
she started up wildly on the couch. 

“Annie, what do you mean? What did you see 
when you looked down into that room? You must tell 
me! He isn’t—!” 

She could not utter the word which trembled on her 
lips but her eyes searched her companion’s as though 
she would drag the truth from her, even as the hor¬ 
rible conviction was borne in upon her shuddering 
mind. 

Annie bowed her head. 

“It’s real dark down there, you know, with all the 
windows boarded up, but I could see him lying right 
beside the picture that fell, you remember?” she whis- 


70 Dust to Dust 

pered tremulously. “I didn’t want to tell you, Miss 
Claudia, but I’m afraid—! There’s something about 
the way he’s lying, all twisted up and unnatural-like. 
. . . I’m afraid he’s—he’s beyond help! I wanted to 
keep it from you, Heaven knows, but perhaps it’s best 
for you to be prepared when Mr. Rowe and the doc¬ 
tor come. He’s dead!” 

With the word spoken at last, ringing in Claudia’s 
ears, a swift revulsion came, and her groping, flutter¬ 
ing hands found the old woman and clung to her in a 
very frenzy of horror. 

“Oh, Annie, he can’t be! You must be mistaken! 
That picture—you think it meant death and so you’re 
just imagining—!” Her voice rose in a little smoth¬ 
ered shriek. “He’s only stunned, you said so yourself! 
Annie, go up and pound on that locked door, pound 
until you make him hear and answer! Tell him you’ve 
sent for help—!” 

“It’s no use.” Annie shook her head slowly. “He’ll 
never hear nor answer. Don’t take on so, child! It 
wasn’t your fault, that floor ain’t been safe for even a 
cat to walk over for years, and if he followed you after 
you ordered him to go and maybe meant harm to you, 
it serves him right! Nobody can blame anything but 
Providence.” 

“He took the revolver from me there on the cupola 
steps, but I’m sure he didn’t mean to shoot—” Claudia 
faltered as though to herself, but Annie seized her by 
the shoulders. 

“What revolver!” she demanded tersely. 

“Father’s old one. I got it and loaded it last night 


The Opened Door 71 

and then forgot and left it in the cupola when you 
came for me this morning,” Claudia explained. 

“Whatever—for!” Annie’s voice had sunk to a 
hoarse whisper. 

“I meant to kill myself if there was anything dis¬ 
graceful—dishonorable—back of—of Niles’ being 
compelled to leave me at the church doors yesterday, 
and this afternoon when I couldn’t escape from him 
I found the revolver there under my hand and I threat¬ 
ened to take my own life if he touched me.” Claudia 
was staring straight before her and her lip curled in 
self-disgust. “I’m afraid I must be a coward, though, 
Annie. I—I couldn’t fire that shot, and then he seized 
the revolver and I thrust him backward down the 
stairs! Then there came the crash—!” 

But Annie was not listening. 

“Where’s that revolver now?” Her tone was grim. 

“I—I don’t know.” Claudia pressed her hands to 
her temples. “He was still holding it when the floor 
gave way—!” 

“Then you keep still till I come back,” Annie ad¬ 
monished, rising determinedly. “I’m going to see if 
maybe it didn’t fly out of his hand off into the attic 
somewhere as he fell and you never noticed. There’s 
no sense in raising a to-do about it or even letting 
anybody know—!” 

She paused, for a bell had shrilled peremptorily 
through the house. 

“There’s Uncle Matt now!” exclaimed Claudia ea¬ 
gerly. “Don’t bother about the revolver; Uncle Matt 
never gossips and the doctor needn’t know, but it 


72 


Dust to Dust 

doesn’t make any difference as long as it isn’t men¬ 
tioned to create more scandal, even if—if Niles is only 
badly hurt.” 

“Miss Claudia, he’s dead, and there’s going to be 
more looking into it than the doctor. I’m glad Mr. 
Rowe is here to make you see the right of it!” 

Annie was interrupted by George’s knock on the 
door. She had told him hurriedly of Niles Hamers- 
ley’s fall when she went to telephone for the doctor 
and attorney, and now he was too agitated to speak, 
but stood there shaking dumbly. 

“It’s Mr. Rowe?” Annie bustled forward, but to 
her surprise George laid his finger on his lips and then 
beckoned. With a quick glance over her shoulder 
Annie said: “Oh, the doctor? You come on down¬ 
stairs with me, George, I want to see him. Miss 
Claudia, I’ll be right back—!” 

“I’m coming with you—” Claudia tried weakly to 
rise but the old woman turned on her almost fiercely. 

“You’ll stay here till Mr. Rowe has a talk with you 
unless you want a worse scandal than yesterday! 
George, go away!” She shut the door in his face and 
went on: “Don’t you know that in a case of accidental 
death the—the police have got to be notified, too? 
You don’t want to have to be bothered with them, do 
you?” 

“The police—!” repeated Claudia in a whisper. 

“Well, a police doctor, anyway,” Annie amended. 
“You just let Mr. Rowe tend to things.” 

She went then and Claudia fell back, covering her 
eyes. Vaguely she felt that Uncle Matt would “tend” 


73 


The Opened Door 

to things as far as they could ever be made right again, 
but the shock had been too great after the tension of 
the day and night that had preceded it and she could 
only lie inert, trying to realize that Niles Hamersley 
was dead. 

She had not even the will to thrust the old servant’s 
opinion from her, nor to doubt it longer; that must 
have been the thought back of her own mind when 
she crouched there on the steps of the cupola, listen¬ 
ing to the crash of his fall and that horrid stillness 
which followed. 

And yet-—it meant nothing to her! In sheer won¬ 
der at the strangeness of it she repeated over and over 
in a whisper: 

“He is dead! Niles is dead!” 

It seemed as though she herself were dead, as though 
she would never feel anything again! Was it because 
so much had been killed in her? 

Downstairs the bell rang again but she scarcely 
heeded it in the chaos of her dazed thoughts. Per¬ 
haps she was more completely dead than Niles, lying 
upstairs, for only his body had succumbed, but first 
he had killed her soul! 

Were those footsteps passing her door? The girl 
raised herself on one elbow and listened. Yes, she 
recognized Uncle Matt’s tread, with the swish of 
Annie’s starched skirts and George tottering along in 
the rear. Why was the doctor not with them, since 
he had arrived first? 

Claudia had no time to speculate on this, even had 
her thoughts been sufficiently coherent, for the trio 


74 Dust to Dust 

rounded the well of the stairs, mounted the next flight 
and proceeded along the hall above to the door di¬ 
rectly overhead. Dimly she felt that it was her duty 
to join them, she told herself that she bore the name 
of that man up there and her place was beside him in 
death, even though living she had turned from him. A 
kind of palsy seized her limbs and she could only 
crouch there, shaking and listening in an agony of in¬ 
tensity for each sound from above. Would that door 
never open? It had been sealed as well as locked, she 
remembered, but surely any sharp instrument could 
readily pry out the crumbling putty. . . . Why must 
she think of such trivial things now? 

Her eyes were fixed upward to the ceiling as though 
she might pierce it and see for herself what was taking 
place overhead, but now all sound seemed to have 
ceased. How could she endure it another moment! 
Claudia felt that she could control herself no longer; 
if this horrible suspense lasted another instant she must 
shriek aloud! Yet an instinct almost of awe checked 
her mounting hysteria, for there was a solemn hush in 
the very atmosphere which the fast-deepening twilight 
served to intensify. She held her breath, waiting. . . . 

And then, just as the end of her endurance came, 
the stillness was shattered by a long-drawn, rasping 
creak and a slam as the door upstairs forced open on 
its rusted hinges swung back against the wall. The 
sound was muffled, but it seemed to echo through the 
old house and Claudia crouched still lower, quivering 
as though beneath a blow, her breath coming in little 
gasps from her parched, colorless lips. 


The Opened Door 75 

There were footsteps now crossing the floor over¬ 
head, the rapid, firm tread of Uncle Matt which to her 
overwrought fancy seemed to shake the very ceiling, 
and when they came to a sudden halt the girl pressed 
her cold hands to her mouth to force back the scream 
which had risen in her throat. Were there other foot¬ 
steps, too, passing her door? Claudia could not be 
sure, for her brain was whirling and little pinpoints of 
light danced before her eyes. Did minutes pass, or 
hours? What was Uncle Matt doing so long, there 
beside—beside the thing which had been Niles Ha- 
mersley? Could it be, after all, that Annie was mis¬ 
taken, that he still breathed? 

Then in sudden, dreadful clarity that still figure ap¬ 
peared before her “all twisted up and unnatural-like” 
as her old nurse had described it to her, and she stared 
with dilated, unseeing eyes in which the light of un¬ 
reason was slowly dawning. Other footsteps passed 
along the hall and there came a muffled sound from 
below as though the front door had been stealthily 
closed. She did not heed, nor did she realize that her 
own door had opened at last, until she felt herself 
gently shaken and Annie’s tremulous voice penetrated 
her consciousness. 

“Oh, my lamb, my lamb! Don’t look like that, 
dearie! Speak to me! I shouldn’t have left you alone 
for so long—!” 

“Annie!” The strange light died in the girl’s eyes 
and she clung desperately to her old nurse. “Annie, 
is it—is it what you—you thought?” 

The other nodded slowly. 


76 Dust to Dust 

“Yes, dearie. Don’t ask me any more now. Mr. 
Rowe is waiting—” 

But Claudia did not hear*- In spite of her own inner 
conviction, in spite of the picture which Annie had con¬ 
jured up before her, a subconscious hope had lingered 
that Niles still lived. In her outraged pride of the 
night before she had wondered why a higher justice 
permitted him to exist after bringing disgrace upon 
her from this shadow of his past, but now that fate 
had indeed intervened sheer horror overwhelmed her 
and she sank to limitless depths of oblivion. . . . 

“There, she is coming out of it nicely.” The kindly 
voice of Dr. Van Tuyl, the Langham’s old family phy¬ 
sician, was the first to greet Claudia, as, after what 
seemed countless ages, she struggled back to conscious¬ 
ness. “I told you there was no cause for alarm. Feel 
better now, my dear? I want you to drink this and 
try to compose yourself.” 

Claudia drank obediently from the glass which he 
held to her lips, and her wandering gaze went from 
his face to Annie’s anxious one, and then to where 
Matthew Rowe stood a little apart with a strange, 
shocked expression upon his usually inscrutable counte¬ 
nance. It was to him that she spoke in a faltering 
whisper. 

“Niles is dead, I know. Uncle Matt, you will help 
me? You will tell me what to do—?” 

“I am here to help you, my child.” He stepped 
forward. “Doctor, she is strong enough now and 
there is not a moment to lose. I must talk with her 
alone.” 


The Opened Door 77 

The physician nodded. 

“Be as brief as you can, Mr. Rowe. I will wait and 
use my authority to see that she is not disturbed by— 
er—any one else, at least until she has rested.” 

“I’ll be right outside the door—” Annie began mu¬ 
tinously, but the attorney interrupted sternly. 

“You’ll go downstairs and wait until I ring. If 
you want to help Miss Claudia you will say nothing 
to any one of what has taken place and don’t let 
George talk. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, sir.” With a last glance at the form relaxed 
weakly on the couch the old woman reluctantly fol¬ 
lowed the physician from the room, closing the door 
behind her. 

The attorney crossed and locked it, then returned 
to draw a chair close to the couch. 

“Now, Claudia, I want the truth; all of it, from the 
time you left the church doors yesterday. I won’t be 
able to help you unless you are entirely frank with me, 
and the situation is more critical than you can real- 

• ^ n 

ize. 

“Oh, I want to tell you, Uncle Matt!” Claudia cried 
softly, reaching her hand out to him in instinctive ap¬ 
peal. “I shall go mad if I keep it to myself!” 

It seemed to her that his face changed in the soft 
glow of the single lamp which Annie had lighted and 
a shadow passed across his narrowed eyes and about 
his tightened lips, but she went on feverishly: 

“If I had only seen you yesterday when you came! 
But I wanted to give him a chance to explain, if he 
could, I wanted to know first for myself why he left 


78 


Dust to Dust 

me as he did before I discussed it even with you! Now 
we shall never know!” 

“Do you mean to say that Hamersley had no ex¬ 
planation to offer when he returned?” Rowe de¬ 
manded. 

“He refused to make any. He said that the man 
who had followed us from the church was some one 
he had known long ago and it was a matter of life and 
death; that he couldn’t tell me because it didn’t con¬ 
cern himself alone but belonged to the past, and that 
now it was buried forever.” Claudia’s weak tones 
gained in strength as she strove to collect her thoughts. 
“When I insisted that I had a right to know, and told 
him that I had seen the fear and guilt written on his 
face when that man accosted him, he defied me and 
spoke of the Bluebeard’s chamber in many a man’s past 
which, even if it contained no other women, it would 
not be well for his wife to pry into. And then he— 
he dared to assume that I would accept his word 
blindly, that I would take up my life with him just as 
though that man had never come !” 

“What did you do?” the attorney asked, dryly. 

“I told him that for the sake of the family name 
there must be no scandal, no open separation, and I 
would live with him as his wife in the eyes of the 
world, but—but that my love for him was dead, and 
he had become a stranger to me.” She paused, shud¬ 
dering, and when she spoke again her voice was low 
and tense, as though she were living over once more 
that brief, horrible scene. “He—he refused my terms, 
he spoke of his rights as my husband and then he— 


The Opened Door 79 

he took me in his arms! Oh, Uncle Matt, you don’t 
know, you don’t know! I struggled, I felt myself 
fainting, and then somehow I managed to break away 
from him and rushed from the drawing-room, but he 
followed me all the way upstairs to the attic! He 
must have gone mad, I think; he was like a beast! 
Just when I thought that I was completely at his 
mercy—the floor gave way, and he fell!” 

There was a brief silence when she had finished and 
Claudia was aware that his eyes had never left her 
face. Why should Uncle Matt appear to be studying 
her so keenly? She had told him everything— 

“What about that revolver, Claudia?” 

“Oh, you found it!” she exclaimed. “He wrested 
it from me—” 

“What were you doing with it?” His tones had 
grown suddenly stern. “It was your father’s, wasn’t 
it? When Hamersley came to you this afternoon, did 
you—?” 

“No, I—I got it last night.” She told of the im¬ 
pulse to kill herself, of leaving the weapon forgotten, 
on the dolls’ tea table in the cupola and then finding it 
under her hand, only to have it taken from her. “It 
was still in his hand, I think, when I thrust him away, 
and he fell through the floor,” she finished. “You 
found it there in the sealed room?” 

“Yes, I found it.” Rowe’s tone was repressed and 
his face inscrutable. “You say that when he took the 
revolver from you, you pushed Hamersley down the 
steps and then the floor suddenly gave way? I want 
you to be very sure of every detail, Claudia. You 


80 


Dust to Dust 

heard the crash as the beams gave and parted and then 
the sound of his body striking the floor of the room 
below. Is that all you heard?” 

“ ‘All?’ ” Claudia repeated, shuddering. “He—he 
may have cried out, I don’t know! My ears were 
deafened with the crash and I felt; as though I were 
stunned I What else coftld I have heard, Uncle 
Matt?” 

“The sound of a revolver shot.” Matthew Rowe 
held her startled eyes with his own questioning ones. 
“Niles Hamersley’s neck was broken by the fall and 
it would have killed him instantly had he not been al¬ 
ready a dead man when he plunged through the floor. 
Claudia, a shot from that revolver had penetrated his 
brain!” 



CHAPTER VI 

MATTHEW ROWE’S ADVICE 

A SHOT?’ ” Claudia repeated in bewildered 
incredulity. .“But it couldn’t have, Uncle 
Matt! No shot was fired—” 

“A shot was fired from it, and that within the last 
hour or two,” Matthew Rowe insisted. “Claudia, are 
you able to stand?” 

“Yes, I—I am just a little weak, that is all.” She 
essayed to rise and, with the attorney’s fatherly arm 
to lean upon, she managed to get on her feet, but a 
shrinking dread assailed her. “You are not taking 
me to—to that room upstairs, Uncle Matt?” 

“No. I want you to go as quietly as possible into 
your father’s room and get the box of cartridges and 
oiled rag you used last night.” He spoke in a low, 
hurried tone that was terse with command. “Be 
quick, and I will see that no one interrupts you.” 

The cartridges! What could he want of them? 
Claudia turned obediently and made her way with 
slow, unsteady steps to her father’s room and the 
shabby old desk in the corner. It seemed years since 
that silent hour before the dawn when she had sat 
there and loaded the revolver. Uncle Matt was mis¬ 
taken, of course; no sound of a shot had reached her 
in that rending crash of decayed, old timbers and it 
seemed inconceivable that the weapon could have been 
81 


82 Dust to Dust 

accidentally discharged. Yet Uncle Matt never made 
a statement without proof and he had asserted that 
Niles was killed by a revolver shot, not by the fall. 
What could it mean? 

She found the attorney impatiently awaiting her in 
the hall and he took the cartridges and bit of oil-soaked 
waste from her and then motioned toward her room. 

“Go back and wait. I’ll be with you in a minute.” 

Claudia sank down upon her couch once more and 
forced herself to go over in every detail that scene 
in the attic. She could see Niles again as he twisted 
the revolver from her grasp, and his low, triumphant 
laugh, as he tried to seize her, rang now in her ears. 
When the crash came and he was plunged downward, 
had not one of his arms jerked up suddenly? Was it 
then that a report had come louder than the sharp 
snap of rotten beams, only she was too tense with 
horror to grasp its significance? 

Matthew Rowe’s reappearance put an end to her 
cogitations. He seated himself as before, but there 
was an added grimness in his manner and a new, domi¬ 
nant note in his voice when he spoke. 

“Claudia, are you going to place yourself unre¬ 
servedly in my hands? Are you going to follow my 
advice in every way unquestioningly ?” 

“Why, of course, Uncle Matt!” she exclaimed. 
“Who else in the world have I to turn to? Annie said 
the—the police might have to be notified, but you 
would see that I wasn’t bothered.” 

“I’m afraid I can’t go so far as to say that. You 
will have to make some sort of a statement, merely 


Matthew Rowe 9 s Advice 83 

as a matter of form, Claudia, and it is about that state¬ 
ment I want to instruct you. Have you talked about 
that revolver to any one else—told about loading it 
last night and leaving it up in the cupola, I mean?” 

“Only Annie.” Claudia’s eyes widened. How 
could it matter when or where the revolver had been 
loaded? 

“And about your quarrel with your husband and his 
pursuit of you through the house? You told Annie 
that, too, I suppose?” He paused and then at her 
nod, went on: “All the other servants except George 
have been given a vacation I understand; could he 
have overheard that quarrel?” 

“Oh, no! He was away at the back of the house. 
I had told him that if Niles required him he would 
ring, and then George is growing very deaf, as you 
may have noticed. He did not even hear the crash 
when the floor gave way, and knew nothing of the— 
the accident till Annie told him when she went to tele¬ 
phone to you.” Claudia eyed the attorney in growing 
wonder. “We needn’t worry about either Annie or 
George, Uncle Matt; they would never talk to report¬ 
ers, and no one will ever know—” 

Rowe interrupted her with a gesture of exaspera¬ 
tion. 

“Claudia, can’t you understand? The police must 
be notified and every moment’s delay now will be the 
more difficult to explain. Granted that your husband 
was killed by the accidental discharge of that revolver 
he was holding when the floor gave way beneath him; 
can’t you realize that the authorities will want to 


84 Dust to Dust 

know what you two were doing here in the attic of this 
house when you were believed to be away on your 
honeymoon, especially after that scene at the church 
door yesterday? Don’t you suppose the papers will 
play it up big in spite of what influence I may be able 
to bring to bear? You will have to explain how Ha- 
mersley came into possession of that revolver and why 
it was so recently loaded—” 

“Oh, Uncle Matt!” Claudia cried in horror. “You 
don’t mean that every one will know! This cloud over 
Niles’ past, my—my thought of killing myself, the 
truth about our quarrel?” 

“Unless we can substitute some plausible explanation 
that will cover the facts down to the smallest detail. 
If it wasn’t for one thing we could claim that your 
husband possessed himself of that old revolver and 
the cartridges without your knowledge; that he went 
alone to the attic and killed himself and that you have 
no idea why he should have committed such an act. 
There’s just one thing that makes that story unten¬ 
able.” 

“What?” Claudia faltered. Could it be that the 
world, her world, would know and gloat over the hid¬ 
eous tragedy of her marriage! Was she, a Langham, 
to be vilified, ridiculed—pitied! The truth must be 
hidden at all costs! Desperately she repeated: “What 
makes that story untenable?” 

“The damned dust up there!” The attorney rose 
and began pacing the floor. “It’s inches thick every¬ 
where and every footprint, every fingermark is plain 
for all to read. Any attempt to obliterate them would 


Matthew Rowe's Advice 85 

only make matters worse. Claudia, what is stored up 
in that attic?” 

“I haven’t the least idea!” She twisted her slim 
hands nervously together. “It has all been there for 
years; discarded furniture and pictures, trunks filled 
with the personal effects of dead and gone generations 
of the family, an old leather chest of papers—” 

“Ah! That’s our answer!” Rowe exclaimed. “I 
remember that old chest and I have a general idea of 
its contents if it hasn’t been disturbed since your 
father’s death.” 

“It hasn’t, I am quite sure.” A faint glow of hope 
came to her at his change of tone. “I thought, though, 
that there were only worthless old documents in it, 
mere waste paper.” 

The attorney did not reply. He had turned from 
her and was walking up and down, once more in 
thought. Claudia watched him in an inward fever of 
anxiety, wondering what subterfuge was taking shape 
in his mind to silence the tongue of scandal. Niles, 
dead, had become a greater menace to the proud tra¬ 
ditions of the family name than while he lived to dread 
that shadow from his past. That was all that counted 
now, the family name! She was amazed that she could 
accept so callously the fact of his death. Was her 
heart dead within her? 

She had cared for him deeply, even though it had 
been the blind infatuation of first love, yet how quickly 
that love had changed to aversion with the knowledge 
that something base and sinister lay at the root of his 
nature, a capacity for evil beneath that veneer of 


86 Dust to Dust 

honor and integrity and chivalry of which she could 
never have dreamed! Had the shock of this revela¬ 
tion made her insensible to all human feeling? He 
had died suddenly, horribly, this man whom she had 
idealized, whose name she bore, and yet it awakened 
no chord of emotion within her. He had become, all 
in a moment, a stranger to her and now she was a 
stranger to herself, a being without heart or soul. 
Only the half-despairing hope remained that the Lang- 
ham name might be rescued unscathed from the conse¬ 
quences of her mistaken faith and trust. 

She had always looked upon the truth as sacred, 
but it would not bring life back to Niles Hamersley to 
blazon to the world the cause of their quarrel, the 
black shadow which had arisen between them, and her 
eyes followed Matthew Rowe with the hunted look of 
a trapped creature waiting for release. The truth 
mattered nothing now in the face of disgrace; would 
he be able to fabricate some saving lie? 

All at once he wheeled and came close to the foot of 
her couch. 

“Claudia, you took that revolver from your father’s 
desk some time ago—months, perhaps—together with 
the cleaning cloth and the box of cartridges and took 
them up to the attic. You found it by accident one 
day last winter when you were rummaging in that 
old desk and you didn’t want it around. Do you un¬ 
derstand? Forget all about last night, put it com¬ 
pletely out of your thoughts. I smudged a space just 
now on the top of that trunk nearest the door with 
the oil-soaked rag—you placed that and the box of 


Matthew Rowe’s Advice 87 

cartridges there but then you remembered something 
you wanted up in the cupola and, without thinking, 
carried the revolver with you and left it forgotten on 
that doll’s table. The mark of it must be there in 
the dust and we cannot afford to miss a single detail. 
You are attending carefully?” 

“Oh—yes!” she responded breathlessly. “Please 
go on, Uncle Matt!” 

“We’ll stick to the truth about yesterday, but with¬ 
out the slightest hint of anything out of the way. 
However, you know nothing except what your hus¬ 
band told you, and of course you accepted that un- 
questioningly—you do now! That will protect you if 
this scandal from his past is brought to light when 
the news of his death is published; we must try to 
anticipate everything.” He stopped, eyeing her crit¬ 
ically, and then demanded abruptly: “Do you think 
you are equal to it? You look shocked and ill, but 
can you pretend the grief you don’t feel? Our whole 
story depends on that; there cannot be the least sus¬ 
picion of a cloud between you.” 

“I can, I must!” Claudia clenched her hands. “I 
will do anything to avoid scandal and notoriety for 
the sake of the family name!” 

It seemed to her that his expression changed oddly, 
as it had when he first mentioned the revolver, and 
a brief pause ensued. Then he nodded briskly. 

“Very well. When that man approached your hus¬ 
band yesterday as he was about to step into the car 
after you in front of the church you didn’t hear what 
was said, but your husband told you he had been sum- 


88 Dust to Dust 

moned to the deathbed of the man to whom he owed 
everything, and he left it to you to decide what he 
should do. You told him to go, that it was his duty. 
Is that clear?” 

“Yes, but when he came to-day?” she asked doubt¬ 
fully. “Won’t it seem odd that I don’t know the 
man’s name nor where he lived? It must have been 
at some distance, for Niles was away over twenty- 
four hours. Don’t think I’m raising obstacles, Uncle 
Matt! I’m trying to think, to help!” 

“I’m glad you’re beginning to take hold, my dear!” 
There was a note of relief in his tones. “You do 
know this dying man’s name, that’s a mere detail as 
long as you remember it if you have to repeat your 
story twice. Let us say it was ‘Brown’—‘Henry 
Brown’—and that his home was in Boston. That is 
far off enough, allowing for a protracted deathbed 
scene, to account for the time until Hamersley re¬ 
turned this afternoon. He didn’t mention the ad¬ 
dress and he was too much affected to go into details 
as to what this friend had done for him in the past. 
You did not press the subject, it was no time for 
sadness. I know this hurts you, Claudia, but if we 
are going to see it through—?” 

“It doesn’t hurt a bit, Uncle Matt; that’s the most 
horrible part of this affair. I seem to be turned to 
stone! I don’t feel—anything! I suppose when it 
is all over, this stupid inquiry and the—the funeral, 
and the notoriety, I shall begin to suffer but now I’m 
just—numb.” She could find no other words in which 
to express herself but surely Uncle Matt would under- 


Matthew Rowe's Advice 89 

stand! Impatiently her thoughts reverted to the 
story which she must tell. “Don’t have any fear for 
me, I shall be able to see this through. But what 
errand took—took Niles and me to the attic? Some¬ 
thing to do with that old chest?” 

“Exactly, and that’s where I come in.” Rowe 
smiled grimly. “I’ve already committed myself by 
disposing of the cartridges and oiled rag, and I may 
as well add some corroborative testimony to yours.” 

“Oh, Uncle Matt, you are so good!” Claudia felt 
a little tingling warmth steal over her and a sudden 
pain came to her throat, making her swallow hard. 
“If it weren’t for you I—I should feel lost! You 
will never know how grateful—!” 

“Nonsense, child!” he hesitated and again there 
came that repressed note in his voice. “I would do 
much more than that for your father’s daughter. I 
would stand by you no matter what—er—what no¬ 
toriety came of this unfortunate accident, remember 
that!—But this is the rest of your story, listen care¬ 
fully. Those Interstate and Commercial bonds of 
yours mature on the first of the month, you know that. 
I have them in my safe, but let us suppose that I mis¬ 
laid them and believed them to be in that old chest 
up in the attic. When I came yesterday to escort you 
to the church I asked you to look for them before 
you started on your honeymoon. When Hamersley 
returned this afternoon you decided to leave to-mor¬ 
row morning on your belated wedding trip and then 
you remembered the bonds and asked Hamersley to 
help you look for them while it was still light. You 


90 Dust to Dust 

told him about your old playroom in the cupola and 
ran up from the attic to—to get one of your dolls 
to show him, let us say. There you came upon the 
forgotten revolver and Hamersley suggested cleaning 
and loading it, from a mere masculine interest in fire¬ 
arms. You felt a trifle nervous and he laughed at 
you, teasing you about it, and persuading you finally 
to help him load it. We must account for any pos¬ 
sible fingermarks of yours, you know. You had for¬ 
gotten all about the unsafe condition of the flooring 
and never thought to warn him, when in a spirit of 
fun he raised the revolver and backed out into the 
open space. Then came the crash, and you did hear 
a loud report as he fell, Claudia, but you thought it 
was the sound of a breaking beam. You fainted, 
Annie found you and sent for me, and that is all you 
know. You have not seen your husband’s body, the 
doctor would not permit it in your overwrought con¬ 
dition, but I told you of that bullet wound just below 
Hamersley’s right ear and you recalled that sharp 
report when he fell and realized that the revolver 
must have gone off in his hand. Do you think you 
can remember all this? It is vital that you do not 
miss a single point.” 

“Yes, Uncle Matt, I shall not forget one word.” 
She drew a deep, quivering breath. “After all, it is 
true—the end, I mean. I thought it all over while 
I was waiting for you to come back, after I had given 
you the cartridges, and I am quite sure now that his 
hand holding the revolver flew up as he dropped, as 
though his arm had struck on some projection. I 


Matthew Rowe's Advice 91 

think I heard a report but the whole world seemed 
to be crashing down and I never thought of a 
shot!” 

Claudia shuddered, but the attorney nodded again 
in a matter-of-fact manner. 

“That’s good—that your memory of the details of 
that moment is coming back to you, I mean,” he 
amended. “You must tell this to the medical ex¬ 
aminer when he comes, exactly as you told it to me. 
Can you think of any weak points in the other part of 
the story?” 

“Where were we standing when we—we cleaned 
and loaded the revolver?” Her tone was very low. 

“Hamersley was at the foot of the stairs leading 
up to the cupola and you on the first step; that will 
account for the footprints. I had planned that, when 
I asked you to get the cartridges and the oiled rag 
and I have placed them on the second step of the 
stairs,” Rowe responded. “I walked in the track you 
and Annie and Hamersley himself made in the dust, 
so I don’t think my footprints will be distinguishable, 
but if they are it is quite in order that I should have 
gone up to look about.” 

“You might have fallen—!” 

“I took no chance of that.—I am going to send 
Annie to you now and as long as you have already 
taken her into your confidence I want you to tell her 
this story, exactly as you are going to repeat it in your 
statement to the medical examiner. It will help to fix 
it in your mind and she must be warned not to let a 
word slip about that quarrel between you and your 


92 Dust to Dust 

husband. She will be questioned, too, you know, 
since it was she who found you in the attic.” 

“I will try to impress it on her,” Claudia prom¬ 
ised. “When do I have to see this—this medical ex¬ 
aminer?” 

“As soon as he has seen the body and given instruc¬ 
tions about it; there will have to be an autopsy, I am 
afraid. After he has talked with you—he ought to 
be here at any moment—the doctor will give you some¬ 
thing to quiet you and you must try to rest.” He bent 
forward and patted her shoulder. “You will need 
all your strength to carry you through the next few 
days, Claudia, my dear, but you have borne up splen¬ 
didly so far and I am not apprehensive for you. Just 
keep your thoughts collected and be brave, and soon 
this will all be like a wretched dream.” 

It was like a dream now, Claudia thought, when he 
had left her. She had been bride and widow all in 
the space of a few short, terrible hours, but they had 
passed in a veritable delirium of suffering and disil¬ 
lusionment. That hideous climax, there in the attic, 
seemed but the culmination of a nightmare. She 
would be brave and calm—Uncle Matt need have had 
no misgivings on that score; and although she in¬ 
stinctively shrank from playing the hypocrite the truth 
must be hidden at all costs. 

Annie hurried in anxiously, to find Claudia rum¬ 
maging in the depths of a closet. 

“What are you looking for, dearie?” she asked. 
“You oughtn’t to be on your feet!” 

“I want that little, black gown, Annie; the plain 


Matthew Rowe’s Advice 93 

satin one.” Claudia emerged and made her way some¬ 
what weakly to her dressing-table. “It isn’t mourning 
but it will have to do for my interview with the medi¬ 
cal examiner; that is whom you meant by ‘police doc¬ 
tor,’ isn’t it?” 

“Yes, and it’s a load off my mind that you aren’t 
going to be—be hard to manage about the mourn¬ 
ing, Miss Claudia!” Annie spoke in a tone of evident 
relief. “Feeling as you do, I was afraid you might 
refuse to wear it at all!” 

“And give people further cause for gossip than they 
have already?” Claudia shrugged. “You and Uncle 
Matt are the only ones who know how I feel, Annie, 
and no one else must ever guess. This is the state¬ 
ment he wants me to make to the medical examiner 
and you must forget the—the truth about the revolver 
and all I told you before.” 

While she repeated the story the door bell rang 
once more and footsteps passed her door, but she 
forced herself to concentrate on the revised account 
of the events preceding Niles Hamersley’s death. 
When she had finished Annie nodded approvingly. 

“I was never one to believe in anything but the 
truth, Miss Claudia, but if folks come poking their 
noses into your business, police or no, you’ve a right 
to tell them what you please,” she commented. “What 
people don’t know they can’t gossip about and the 
sooner this whole awful thing is buried and forgotten 
the better! There’s something sort of queer hap¬ 
pened, though, that you ought to know. Did you 
ever hear of a gentleman named Hugo Zorn?” 


94 Dust to Dust 

“Never.” Claudia glanced up in surprise as Annie 
brushed her hair. 

“I thought not. It seemed kind of funny, his com¬ 
ing when he did, but I guess he was just another re¬ 
porter trying to get some news about that scene at 
the church yesterday from you, not knowing that— 
that Mr. Hamersley had come back,” Annie observed. 
“Do you remember when George came to the door 
here for me and I thought first Mr. Rowe had come 
and then that it must be the doctor? Well, it wasn’t 
either of them, it was this gentleman. He asked for 
you and said that he’d come on most important busi¬ 
ness. When George tried to tell him you had left the 
city, he pretended to know better, and he was so bound 
and determined to see you that George showed him 
into the reception room and then asked me what to 
do. Mr. Hamersley was lying dead upstairs then, 
Miss Claudia, and you here half out of your mind 
and I couldn’t bother you about him. I told George 
to let him wait till Mr. Rowe got here and he’d soon 
send him about his business. I guess we were talk¬ 
ing about him for some little time up here in the hall, 
for when George went down to ask him to wait he 
found this Mr. Zorn in the same chair where he’d 
left him, but his nose was all covered with fine yellow 
dust like powder; he looked comical, George said, and 
he could have laughed to himself if he hadn’t been so 
horror-struck over what had happened to Mr. Ha¬ 
mersley.” 

“‘Yellow dust!*” Claudia repeated. Could she 
ever think of ‘dust’ again without recalling that hor- 


Matthew Rowe’s Advice 95 

rible rent in the attic floor and the dust rising up 
from it like smoke ? She shuddered and asked sharply: 
“What in the world are you talking about, Annie?” 

“That’s what I asked George,” the other responded. 
“It came to him all of a sudden that only this morn¬ 
ing he filled a big bowl on one of the side tables in 
the drawing-room with some of those spring flowers 
that came yesterday and when he got through his hands 
were covered with the same fine yellow dust from 
them—pollen, you call it, don’t you? That man must 
have sneaked into the drawing-room and back while 
George was talking to me and if he hadn’t stooped to 
smell those flowers we’d never have known it! Don’t 
it beat all, the liberties reporters will take, prowling 
around in people’s homes when they get a chance?” 

Claudia was silent for a minute. Hugo Zorn! The 
name was strange to her but she did not share Annie’s 
opinion that he represented the press. What errand 
could have brought a stranger to her at such a time, 
and why was he so certain that she had not left town 
when all the papers that morning had stated she was 
on her honeymoon? Was it something about Niles, 
something about this shadow which hung over his 
past? A swift premonition assailed her and she caught 
her breath, then asked with as much indifference as 
she could assume: 

“Did George describe him to you? Did he say any¬ 
thing about his appearance except that—that yellow 
dust on his face?” 

“He said he was little and dark, sort of jaundiced- 
looking, with a flat nose and the reddest lips he ever 


96 


Dust to Dust 

saw on a man in his life. His voice was kind of harsh 
and George didn’t like the bold way he carried him¬ 
self, especially after he found out he’d sneaked in the 
drawing-room with no invitation. We both forgot 
about him when Mr. Rowe came and he must have 
got tired of waiting and left of his own accord, for 
when George finally thought of him he was gone.” 

Claudia had scarcely heard. Little and dark, with 
a flat nose and repulsively red lips! Her premonition 
held true, for only one person would accord with that 
description. A new fear gripped her. Hugo Zorn 
was the man who had taken Niles Hamersley from 
her at the church door! 


CHAPTER VII 

QUERY AND EVASION 

S EEMING even more tall and slender, in her 
straight black gown, than she had appeared in 
her bridal robes of yesterday, Claudia descended 
the stairs a half hour later to find Matthew Rowe 
again awaiting her at its foot. He gave a slight 
start at sight of her change of attire and then nodded 
approvingly as he offered her his arm. 

“Doctor Jeffreys and his assistant are in the draw¬ 
ing-room, my dear,” he announced for the obvious 
benefit of listening ears. “Doctor Van Tuyl has told 
them of your condition and they will be as brief as 
possible.” 

“I understand, Uncle Matt.” Her tone was low, 
but quite steady. “It will be a very painful ordeal, 
of course, but I shall try to tell them whatever they 
want to know.” 

He led her into the drawing-room where two men 
who had been conferring together turned from the 
window and came forward. The elder of the two 
was sleekly groomed and he wore the indefinable air 
of the professional man, but his companion, just verg¬ 
ing on middle-age, was carelessly, almost shabbily, 
dressed in a suit of baggy gray tweeds. The smile 
on his round, cheerful countenance contrasted 
sharply with the other’s important frown. 

97 


98 


Dust to Dust 

“Mrs. Hamersley, this is Dr. Jeffreys and Mr. 
Dawes,” Matthew Rowe announced. “You must tell 
them everything, just as you told it to me.” 

The man called Dawes bowed and turned to a 
small table in a corner, taking some papers from his 
pocket with the manner of one having no further in¬ 
terest in the proceedings, but the doctor nodded curtly 
and drew forward a chair. 

“Sit here, please, Mrs. Hamersley. I understand 
that your husband was unexpectedly called away as 
you left the church, immediately after your marriage 
ceremony yesterday, and did not rejoin you until this 
afternoon. Is that correct?” 

“Yes, Doctor.” Claudia inclined her head. “A 
friend had come from Boston to summon him to a 
deathbed, not knowing that he was to be married 
yesterday, and was unable to reach him before the 
ceremony. When he presented himself at the door 
of our car, Mr. Hamersley was in a quandary, for he 
was under great moral obligation to Mr. Brown—the 
man who was dying—and he turned to me. I told 
him that he must go to his friend, of course, and I 
would wait here at home for his return.” 

She was seated with her back to the table at which 
the assistant was busied, but the doctor faced her and 
the attorney had taken a chair at one side. Claudia 
glanced at the latter as she ceased speaking, but he 
looked quickly away as though in warning, and her 
eyes returned again to the doctor. 

“At what time did Mr. Hamersley come home this 
afternoon?” 


99 


Query and Evasion 

Claudia hesitated. 

“About four o’clock, I think. The servants may 
be able to tell you the exact time. I know that three 
o’clock struck, and then half-past, while I waited. I 
—I did not think of the time after he came, but I 
know that twilight was just falling when we went up 
to the attic.” 

Her voice died away in a whisper and she had 
no need to simulate the tremor which ran through it, 
but she wished the doctor would take his keen, un¬ 
wavering gaze from her if only for an instant. 

What sort of impression had she made? She 
dared not look at Uncle Matt again for a sign and 
the inscrutable countenance of her questioner told her 
nothing. Had she been indeed grief-stricken, would 
her manner have been as stiff and cold as she felt it 
must seem now? She had wept tempestuously for 
days after her father’s death, but now no tears would 
come to her hot, dry eyes; would it appear strange? 

The doctor’s voice broke in upon her troubled 
thought. 

“Your husband’s friend, Brown, had died?” 

She nodded. 

“Mr. Hamersley had stayed with him until the end 
and he—he felt so badly that I urged him not to talk 
about it now. I spoke of our wedding trip instead, 
and we decided to start to-morrow.” 

“ ‘He felt badly.’ ” Dr. Jeffreys repeated. “Did 
he give way to any outburst of grief in your presence 
or seem to be brooding unduly over his friend’s 
death?” 


100 Dust to Dust 

Was her questioner hinting at suicide? She must 
be careful now, she must be obtuse! No thought 
must seem to have entered her mind that any one could 
imagine Niles Hamersley’s death to be other than the 
result of sheer accident, as it was. Claudia shook 
her head. 

“Oh, no. He was depressed, naturally, when he 
first returned, but—but he was so glad to get back 
to me!” She loathed the part she was playing, but 
there was no help for it. The scandal of that quar¬ 
rel must never be known! Biting her lip, she glanced 
down at the wisp of a handkerchief twisted between 
her fingers and added: “He cheered up almost at 
once, and was full of plans for our trip. It was then 
that I recalled the bonds Mr. Rowe had asked me to 
look for in an old chest upstairs, and I proposed that 
we go up together while it was still light enough to 
see. 

“Your husband had regained his usual spirits, then, 
when you went to the attic?” The doctor had taken 
a fountain pen from his pocket and was tapping 
thoughtfully on the arm of his chair. If only he 
would stop! Each tiny stroke seemed to touch a live 
nerve in Claudia’s brain and she winced in spite of 
herself. She must tell her story quickly before her 
self-control snapped! 

“If anything, he was in more than his usual spirits, 
joking and teasing me as though we were two chil¬ 
dren together on a lark! He—he even wanted me 
to show him my dolls in my old playroom up in the 


Query and Evasion 101 

cupola!” Her voice broke and she paused, feeling 
as though she were choking. Could it be that her 
own lips were uttering those lying words so glibly, that 
some hitherto untried faculty for deceit and mendacity 
had come to life in her brain at her sub-conscious 
bidding, enabling her to keep to the letter of her 
trumped-up story, even while the real scene arose 
again before her in all its stark horror? Shuddering, 
she covered her eyes with her hand and after a brief 
pause the doctor asked more gently than he had pre¬ 
viously spoken: 

“You did not look for the bonds at once, then? 
Tell me exactly what happened, Mrs. Hamersley, 
from the moment you reached the attic.’’ 

Claudia raised her head and gripping the arms of 
her chair she described the final episode faithfully, 
in accordance with the version in which the attorney 
had coached her, struggling to keep her failing voice 
under control. She was unaware that its strained, 
faltering note lent a surer touch of realism to the nar¬ 
ration than any forced show of hysteria could have 
achieved. She dared not meet the direct gaze of her 
inquisitor, but sat staring fixedly into space, conscious 
not only of his eyes and Matthew Rowe’s upon her, 
but feeling that the third man, Dawes, had riveted his 
attention upon her story. 

“Until Mr. Rowe told me, I didn’t even know that 
the revolver had gone off,” she concluded. “I may 
have heard the report, but the crash of breaking 
beams was deafening! I couldn’t move or utter a 


102 


Dust to Dust 

cry, I just sank down on the steps there and stared 
at that dreadful opening in the floor and after a while 
—I don’t know how long!—Annie found me.” 

A chair moved behind her and Dawes advanced to 
the little group, taking up his stand by the empty 
fireplace. He was no longer smiling and his cheer¬ 
ful countenance wore a gravely reflective expression 
as he rested- one elbow on the mantel and stood re¬ 
garding her. 

In the momentary pause, Claudia drew a long, 
quivering breath. Had her statement been convinc¬ 
ing? Did it ring true or had she made some slight 
error, revealed by word or look or tone the deadly 
enmity which had existed between her and Niles 
Hamersley at the moment when fate intervened? 
Convincing or not, she had committed herself and 
now she must stand by her story, but she could not 
resist a glance of questioning appeal at the attorney. 
Uncle Matt had committed himself, too; had she 
failed him? 

He met her eyes and nodded almost imperceptibly, 
but in unmistakable reassurance, and she sank back 
in her chair, turning her gaze once more upon the 
doctor as though waiting in patient resignation for 
permission to retire. 

But the medical examiner seemed to be still con¬ 
sidering her statement and Dawes suddenly took up 
the interrogation. 

“Who was the man who approached your husband 
as you left the church yesterday? What was his 
name ?” 


103 


Query and Evasion 

The question came like a thunderbolt, but Claudia 
rallied her almost spent forces and replied quietly: 

“I don’t know. Mr. Hamersley didn’t present 
him there in front of the church; there wasn’t time, 
for the other guests were coming out.” 

“Didn’t he mention him to-day?” The man’s voice 
was pleasant but insistent, and Claudia shook her 
head. Niles had said that he knew the stranger years 
ago, but to admit that would betray the fact that he 
had been the subject of discussion. Uncle Matt’s 
caution rang again in her ears: “You know nothing 
except what your husband told you, and you accepted 
that unquestioningly—you do now!” She lifted 
guileless eyes to Dawes. 

“No.” Her tone conveyed mild surprise at the 
question. “I had forgotten all about him, thinking 
of—of Mr. Hamersley’s friend who was dying.” 

“If he did not know about the wedding in advance, 
how did he manage to get into the church? Where 
did he get his card?” Dawes’ small twinkling eyes 
seemed to be boring into her very brain, although he 
had not changed his easy, lounging attitude. A 
vague sense of misgiving assailed her, but Claudia 
said simply: 

“I haven’t given that a thought. People manage 
to get in to all sorts of social functions without cards.” 

“He came on from Boston for your husband. Did 
he go back with him?” 

“I couldn’t say. Mr. Hamersley told me no de¬ 
tails of his trip, only that his friend had passed away 
and I—I begged him not to talk of it just then.” 


104 Dust to Dust 

Her misgiving increased, but she dared not glance 
again at Uncle Matt for a sign. If Dawes believed 
her statement of her happy reunion with Niles, why 
did he harp on the errand which had taken him away 
from her? Could he have guessed that a quarrel had 
taken place and would he try to worm the truth from 
her? 

“Did your husband telephone to you or send you a 
wire during his absence ?” 

“No.’ , 

“Didn’t you think that was strange, Mrs. Ha- 
mersley?” 

A sudden dread made Claudia’s heart stand still; 
could the authorities have learned where Niles had 
really been? Did they know of the cloud which hung 
over his past? 

“Of course not! I didn’t expect any message from 
him for I knew he would come to me as soon as he 
could.” Did her tone sound innocently trustful 
enough? Dawes’ face expressed neither belief nor 
skepticism, and his pleasant, matter-of-fact manner 
had not changed, but somehow he seemed to be under¬ 
mining her pitiful fabrication. She must add some¬ 
thing that would strengthen the impression of her abso¬ 
lute faith and belief in her husband. (“That will pro¬ 
tect you if this scandal from his past is brought to 
light.” Uncle Matt had advised her truly!) Claudia 
straightened herself in her chair and lifted her small 
chin proudly. “It was I who sent my husband to the 
friend who needed him in his extremity; the decision 
rested with me.” 


Query and Evasion 105 

“Didn’t you think of your own position?—Of all the 
curiosity and talk that was bound to start if you parted 
from your husband so publicly the instant the ceremony 
was over?” 

Claudia’s lip curled. 

“My position has been assured for generations, Mr. 
Dawes, and it is not in the traditions of my family to 
consider idle gossip where a question of duty is in¬ 
volved.” 

Matthew Rowe moved in his chair as though to at¬ 
tract her attention, and Claudia realized that she had 
allowed herself to be goaded into a rather silly exhibi¬ 
tion of pride; but Dawes was quite unmoved by her 
retort. His hand slipped into his change pocket and he 
rattled the coins idly as he asked: 

“Why was your husband’s duty to this Mr. Brown 
paramount over his duty to you? What was his obli¬ 
gation to this man?” 

“I don’t know. Mr. Hamersley merely said that he 
owed everything to him.” 

“And you had not heard of him before yesterday?” 
The small, twinkling eyes had narrowed and there was 
a note of open incredulity in Dawes’ tone. “During all 
your engagement Mr. Hamersley never once mentioned 
the man to whom he ‘owed everything’?” 

He stressed the words significantly. 

“No, Mr. Dawes.” Claudia felt the blood draining 
from her face but she held her head high. “He prob¬ 
ably assumed that his debt to his friend, whatever its 
nature was, had been paid, but a dying request is 
another matter.” 


106 Dust to Dust 

“Do you know Brown’s first name? His address in 
Boston?” 

“His first name was ‘Henry,’ I believe; I do not 
know where he lived.” Claudia paused and added 
with a little break in her voice. “Really, Mr. Dawes, 
I can tell you nothing more! It was against the ad¬ 
vice of my own physician that I consented to see the 
medical examiner and I have told you everything I can 
about the—the fearful accident which has taken my 
husband from me!” 

Matthew Rowe cleared his throat and came to the 
rescue. 

“My client is really too ill to be annoyed just now 
with irrelevant details,” he remarked smoothly. “Do 
you wish her to add anything further to her statement 
of the tragedy which occurred this afternoon? She is 
in great anguish of mind and I must ask you to be as 
brief as possible.” 

“I have no intention of annoying Mrs. Hamersley 
or trying her strength at this time, Mr. Rowe, but you 
can appreciate the fact that these questions will have 
to be answered.” Dawes’ tone was apologetic but 
firm, and he turned again to Claudia. “When your 
husband accompanied you to the attic to look for the 
bonds did you warn him of the unsafe condition of 
the floor?” 

“No, I—I had forgotten all about it!” The 
distress and horror in her voice was unfeigned. “My 
old nurse Annie had warned me about it so often as 
a child that it was a fact I had come to take for granted, 
I suppose! Oh, why did I not think!” 


107 


Query and Evasion 

“You have not been up there recently, then?” 

Claudia was instantly on her guard. 

“Not since I took the revolver and cartridges to 
store away, and that was several months ago; some¬ 
time during the winter. The—the floor has never 
actually given way before, it has merely seemed weak 
in spots. My father would have ordered it repaired if 
it had been considered really dangerous, but I—I shall 
never forgive myself! The old warning did not recur 
to my mind until I heard that first ominous snap of 
cracking timbers and then it was too late! The space 
on which my husband stood seemed to open like a trap¬ 
door and he was plunged downward!” 

Involuntarily she closed her eyes and her hands went 
to her ears as though to shut out the dread sound which 
still echoed in her brain, but a gentle, fatherly touch 
fell upon her shoulder. 

“Claudia, my child, you must not break down now! 
Try to control yourself for a few minutes longer.” 

Was there a covert warning in Uncle Matt’s tone? 
Claudia’s hands fell to her lap and she leaned back 
once more in her chair. 

“I—I am quite all right, Uncle Matt.—Can I tell 
you anything more, Mr. Dawes?” 

“You went to the attic to get the bonds but forgot 
them when the subject of your playroom and the dolls 
came up, and the dolls were in turn forgotten when you 
chanced upon your father’s old revolver.” Dawes 
spoke as though to himself, and, although now there 
was no hint of incredulity in his tone, Claudia’s heart 
sank still lower. Who was this man? Surely not a 


108 


Dust to Dust 

mere assistant to the medical examiner, for Dr. Jef¬ 
freys had practically turned the inquiry over to him 
when she had concluded her voluntary account of what 
had taken place. It would have been far better to have 
told the truth than to have her husband branded a sui¬ 
cide!—Yet had she not herself thought of suicide? 
Might she not now be dead by her own hand if her 
courage had not failed? 

“The bonds could have been found to-morrow morn¬ 
ing—there was no particular hurry about them—and 
we were in a happy, almost childish mood as I told 
you. It was on a mere silly impulse that I ran up into 
the cupola to get my favorite doll to show to my hus¬ 
band and the sight of the revolver turned my thoughts 
into another channel. Mr. Hamersley’s suggestion 
that we load it was prompted by as idle an impulse as 
my own.” Claudia hesitated and then went on quickly: 
“I didn’t want him to! If only I had stopped him! 
The fall would—would have been fatal in any event, 
Mr. Rowe tells me, but my husband might not have 
backed out upon that weak place in the floor if he had 
not been foolishly playing with the revolver.” 

“‘Playing with it?’” Dawes repeated. “Was he 
pointing it at you or at himself?” 

“Oh, neither!” She moistened her lips nervously. 
Uncle Matt had not prepared her for this! She must 
recall what details he had suggested, though, so that 
their versions would not conflict. “I was at the foot of 
the cupola steps, where we had loaded the revolver to¬ 
gether. I didn’t want to touch it but Mr. Hamersley 
teased me so about being afraid of it that I gave in. 


Query and Evasion 109 

He—he was pointing it at the opposite wall when he 
backed away.” 

“Why? Did he threaten to fire—in order to tease 
you, of course?” 

Had she only imagined that significant pause after 
the word ‘fire’? Claudia racked her brains for a 
plausible pretext and all at once the inspiration came. 

“No, he was imitating the duelists of a century ago, 
posing in the stiff, ridiculous attitudes in which they 
appear in old prints and I—I was laughing when sud¬ 
denly the crash came!” 

What would Uncle Matt think of this elaboration 
of their story? He had returned to his chair but she 
kept her eyes resolutely fastened on Dawes; she must 
go on now to the end. 

“There was no warning, no creaking of the boards?” 

“Oh, all the boards up there creak more or less when 
one walks over them; you must have noticed that if— 
if you have examined the attic. I think my husband’s 
stamping about must have snapped the last decaying 
support under that section of the floor; it all seemed 
to give way at once. I remember that as he fell the 
hand holding the revolver jerked upward—not over 
his head, but crooked, as though his elbow had hit 
sharply on something. As I told you, though, I cannot 
be sure that I heard the shot, if it was then that the 
revolver was accidentally discharged. I did hear the 
sickening thud of—of his body when it struck the 
floor below and then I—I suppose I must have lost 
consciousness. I don’t remember anything more until 
my old nurse appeared.” 


110 Dust to Dust 

“You took it for granted that your husband had 
been killed by the fall without even trying to reach 
him?” Dawes asked bluntly. “I understand that room 
has been locked up for years but didn’t it occur to you 
to have some one break the door down?” 

“I was alone in the house with Annie and a feeble, 
old manservant, whom perhaps you have seen, and the 
room was not only locked; it was sealed up years ago 
by my father’s orders, with putty or plaster or some 
such substance,” explained Claudia. “Annie sent at 
once for Mr. Rowe, who has the keys, and for the 
doctor, as I insisted, but she declared that my husband 
was—was dead. She had looked down through that 
hole in the attic floor and something in the position of 
his body made her sure. She would not allow me to 
look also and I begged her to have George—the old 
butler—try to break the door down, but his frail 
strength would not have been equal to it, and Mr. 
Rowe came almost at once.—Didn’t you, Uncle Matt?” 

She glanced at him as she spoke and was startled at 
the deepened gravity of his face. She was telling the 
truth now, there was no longer any danger that the 
scandal of that quarrel would become public property! 
Why should he seem so anxiously concerned all at 
once? 

“My office is not far downtown and I was here 
within ten minutes after Annie telephoned for me,” he 
responded, and then turned to Dawes. “Mrs. Ha- 
mersley was prostrated, going from one faint into 
another. After the maid got her down to her room 
she collapsed utterly and was unconscious when Doc- 


Query and Evasion 111 

tor Van Tuyl and I first entered her presence, imme¬ 
diately upon our examination of Mr. Hamersley’s 
body. The sealing up of that room into which he fell 
was a matter of sentiment on the part of the late Mr. 
Langham; his wife had been ill there for a long time 
before her departure for Europe in the hope of a last¬ 
ing cure. She died abroad, and her husband wanted 
to feel that no one else would ever enter that room.” 

“I see.” Dawes nodded. “Mrs. Hamersley, have 
you seen your husband’s body?” 

Matthew Rowe opened his lips, but before he could 
speak Claudia replied quickly: 

“I wanted to go to him! I felt that my place was 
by his side even though he was dead, and I tried with 
all my strength to rise from my couch when I heard 
that door slam open upstairs, but I couldn’t! They 
had left me all alone, you see, and later—” 

“Naturally she was not permitted, in her condition, 
to view her husband’s body!” the attorney broke in as 
she paused. “She shall not be permitted to do so 
now, under any circumstances!” 

Why was Uncle Matt so emphatic? No one had 
suggested that she enter the presence of the dead and 
the very thought turned her cold and sick. That first 
impulse of which she had just told, to hasten to the 
body of the man whose name she bore, had been fol¬ 
lowed by a shrinking dread—not of the thing which 
Niles Hamersley had become but of the very sight 
of his face, as though his spirit still lingered near with 
power to reach out from another world to bring 
further suffering and disgrace upon her. 


112 Dust to Dust 

But what had caused Uncle Matt to assume this 
attitude almost of defense? There were lines of 
strain, too, about his mouth and eyes and he seemed 
to have aged years in the space of an hour! He 
seemed also to be studying Dawes in a more wary, in¬ 
tent fashion even than before, and Claudia glanced 
at the latter in time to observe the hint of a smile 
which for an instant passed over his face at the at¬ 
torney’s protestation. Then he turned to the medical 
examiner. 

“Doctor, are there any points in Mrs. Hamersley’s 
statement which are not quite clear?” 

Doctor Jeffreys shook his head and rose. 

“No, we won’t trouble you any further now, Mrs. 
Hamersley. I will arrange to have Mr. Hamersley’s 
body removed at once for the autopsy. If it should be 
necessary for Mr. Dawes or myself to interview you 
again—?” 

“Mrs. Hamersley will be here at home, of course, 
for some time to come,” Matthew Rowe interrupted 
once more. “There will be many matters to be at¬ 
tended to in connection with her husband’s estate and 
she will receive you at any time.” 

He rang for George to show the officials out and 
when the front door had closed behind them Claudia 
turned to him and held out both her hands. 

“Oh, Uncle Matt, do you think they believed me? 
They won’t come again to question me; it is all over?” 

Rowe took her hands gravely and she saw to her 
surprise that his forehead was beaded with moisture. 

“They may return, my dear, but please God, you 


Query and Evasion 113 

have nothing to fear now! If nothing unforeseen 
arises I think your statement will stand the test. Go 
to your room, now, and I will send Dr. Van Tuyl to 
you.” 

Why was Uncle Matt’s voice so shaken and why had 
he spoken so solemnly? Bewilderment mingled with 
her relief as Claudia mounted the stairs. She had 
had nothing to fear in any event except that the 
scandal of her repudiation of her husband because of 
the cloud upon his past might become known, yet Uncle 
Matt’s manner betokened that a crisis of even greater 
magnitude had been passed. 

He had said that “if nothing unforeseen arose” her 
statement would stand the test. What possible eventu¬ 
ality could he foresee that was hidden from her mental 
vision? 


CHAPTER VIII 

STEPHEN STANDS BY 

U T\R' VAN TUYL said I was to get you straight 

I 1 to bed and make you take some broth, and 
then he would give you something to quiet 
you so’s you’d have a good sleep,” Annie announced, 
as Claudia entered her room. “Is everything all right, 
dearie? You won’t be bothered by that police doctor 
again?” 

“I don’t know,” replied Claudia wearily. “Did he 
or his assistant talk to you?” 

“Yes, and precious little they got out of me!” The 
old woman tossed her head. “The doctor wasn’t so 
bad, but that Mr. Dawes asked the most impudent 
questions! It was on the tip of my tongue to tell 
him it was none of his business what you told me 
about—about Mr. Hamersley being called away when 
you got home yesterday, and as to how you looked and 
how you acted, and whether you slept well or not—!” 

“He asked you that?” Claudia frowned, as she 
drew off the gown which the other had unfastened, 
and sank into the chair before the dressing-table. The 
face that stared back at her from the mirror was 
ghastly in its pallor, with great purplish shadows 
about the staring eyes and wan lips drooping pitifully, 
but she scarcely glanced at her reflection. 

114 


Stephen Stands By 115 

How quick that man Dawes had been to assume that, 
because of that scene before the church, all might not 
have been well between Niles Hamersley and herself! 
What effrontery he had shown in daring to quiz her 
servants! People who ordinarily came into contact 
with the police were probably subjected to the most 
rigid inquiry, but such people were not of her world, 
and surely a Langham was entitled to more considera¬ 
tion and respect than the mere man in the street! By 
what right had that man attempted to pry into her 
every act and thought? 

Yet Uncle Matt had permitted him to question her 
about the fictitious “Brown” until her nerves all but 
gave way beneath the strain and only interfered when 
she herself protested. How had she ever endured that 
dreadful ordeal! 

Now that the tension was past a supreme lassitude 
encompassed her and she sipped her broth and then 
lay back among her pillows with a benumbed feeling 
of indifference. The thread of her life had been 
broken and though some day, somehow, she must take 
up the loose end and go on for the sake of what the 
world would say, she longed now only for oblivion. 

Yet she dared not close her eyes! Whenever her 
weary lids drooped, that scene in the attic in all its 
stark horror arose again before her and she started 
upright with a smothered shriek. Was she going mad? 
Must she live that hideous moment over and over until 
her tottering reason fell and utter insanity came? 

Doctor Van Tuyl found her with racing pulse and 
feverishly glittering eyes, her whole body twitching 


116 Dust to Dust 

spasmodically and her slim, burning fingers plucking 
at the silk coverlet. 

“Come, my dear, this will never do!” He felt her 
wrist for a moment then allowed it to slip limply from 
his hold. “You must sleep—” 

“I cannot!” Her voice was high with the overtone 
of delirium. “I see him when I shut my eyes! I see 
him as—as he fell! He is standing here—here before 
me and then with a crash he is gone, and only the 
dust—! The dust rising in a cloud like smoke—!” 

“We will soon banish that!” The doctor patted her 
hand reassuringly and turned to the bathroom adjoin¬ 
ing, while Annie advanced to smooth the coverlet with 
anxious, tremulous hands. 

“My lamb!” she murmured. “Oh, be careful what 
you say! He doesn’t know—!” 

But Claudia was past caution. 

“All the world will know!” she babbled. “They 
will know, but they will not see Niles as I see him 
now! They will not have to see him die over and over 
again as I must—only I! His face—that look of fury 
and then fear, and then the dust swirling up over his 
head!” 

“Hush, Miss Claudia J” Annie tried gently to press 
her back upon her pillows. “You don’t know what 
you’re saying! Try not to think of it, for you’re only 
doing yourself harm!” 

“ ‘Harm’!” Claudia’s half-crazed brain caught at 
the word. “I thought he could never do me any more 
harm! I thought it would be the end, but now I can 
never put him from me!” 


Stephen Stands By 117 

Annie started and drew back as the doctor came up 
noiselessly behind her. 

“Don’t mind the poor child, Dr. Van Tuyl!” she 
whispered. “She’s out of her head from the shock and 
grief, but it’ll pass. When she’s herself again she 
won’t know what she’s said!” 

Claudia looked up, as the physician bent oyer her 
and pushed up the lace of her sleeve. His benign face, 
with the trimly pointed gray beard and calm, com¬ 
passionate eyes beneath the heavy brows, had been 
familiar since her earliest childhood and his coming 
had always meant relief from pain, but now somehow 
it had changed! His eyes were growing smaller, 
twinkling suspiciously, boring into her brain, and his 
expression, doubting, watchful, was curiously like that 
of Dawes when he questioned her. 

Or was it Dawes himself who stood beside her? 
Dr. Van Tuyl seemed to have receded, vanished like 
a shadow and in his stead Dawes leaned toward her, 
his skeptical face with its hard, knowing smile coming 
nearer and nearer. . . . 

“I told you the truth!” she cried, shrinking away. 
“It was an accident! There was no dreadful, secret 
thing—ah!” 

A sharp pain darted through her arm, and then, 
oddly, it seemed to be Dr. Van Tuyl once more, who 
smiled gravely as he withdrew the needle. 

“There! No dreams will disturb you to-night I 
promise you, my dear. Annie is right here, and she 
won’t leave you, but you must not talk. Just try to 
rest.” 


118 Dust to Dust 

Claudia relaxed with a little tremulous sigh. 

“I thought that man was here again!—The man 
who questioned me ! He was so officious, so insultingly 
inquisitive! You won’t let him come any more, Doc¬ 
tor? I can’t bear it!” 

“No one shall harass you any further, for to-night 
at least. You are safe from all intrusion, Claudia. 
Don’t you feel a trifle easier now?” 

Did she imagine it or was there that same odd note 
of repression in his usually hearty tones that had been 
evident in Uncle Matt’s voice when he first mentioned 
the revolver? The attorney must have told Dr. Van 
Tuyl the same story in which he had coached her, the 
story she was supposed to have told him. Did the 
doctor doubt that harmless fabrication that Niles was 
merely playing with the revolver when the end came? 
Surely he, too, could not be seriously entertaining the 
stupid notion that he had meant to shoot himself! 

But a soothing warmth was creeping sluggishly 
through her veins and her body seemed to be sinking 
deeper and deeper into the soft bed with a delicious 
sensation of comfort and relaxation. The lights, too, 
were more dim and the familiar objects about her 
floated mistily in a faint, opalescent haze. Somehow 
it required a tremendous effort to turn her head on the 
pillow and reply to the doctor’s question. 

“I feel—drowsy, I think.” The overtone was gone 
and her voice dragged leadenly. “I feel as though I 
were—drifting somewhere.” 

“That is as it should be.” Dr. Van Tuyl felt her 


Stephen Stands By 119 

pulse once more and rose. “Don’t try to hold yourself, 
my dear; just drift. I will see you in the morning.” 

He turned away and his low tones came to her in 
an indistinguishable murmur as he gave some final 
instructions to Annie, but Claudia did not try to listen. 
Her heavy lids drooped lower and lower and now no 
specter of the afternoon’s tragedy came to torture her, 
only a soft curtain of darkness over her tired eyes, 
and her brain itself seemed mercifully numb. 

The return of Niles Hamersley, the bitter moment 
when her fears as to his past were confirmed, the 
struggle and pursuit and then that sudden, fatal mis¬ 
step which plunged him into eternity—all the swift- 
moving events of the last few hours were vague and 
nebulous now as though they had taken place long, 
long ago and some one else, not she, had been con¬ 
cerned in them. To welcome the silence and the dark; 
to rest, to drift passively with the gentle current which 
was bearing her resistlessly away into nothingness, into 
oblivion. . . . 

How long she slept Claudia did not know. She 
found herself all at once drawn up in bed, crouched 
high upon her pillows, listening with every nerve taut 
and quivering. What sound had penetrated the 
drugged coma in which she lay and aroused her con¬ 
sciousness? Faint, muffled snores came from the 
couch at the foot of the bed where the exhausted Annie 
slumbered, but otherwise the silence was profound. 

The low night-light cast a steady, unwavering 
shadow into the far corners of the room and through 


120 


Dust to Dust 

the window the paling moon sent eerie rays athwart 
the floor. It must be very late, within an hour or two 
of dawn. What could have awakened her that Annie 
had not heard? 

Then upon her straining ears there came the soft, 
stealthy tread of footsteps down the hall! Could it 
be old George prowling about?—But his steps were 
short and irregular, feeble with age, and these were 
steady, cautious, slow! 

Claudia drew herself up yet higher and glanced 
quickly at the bedstand beside her. A heavy cut-glass 
jar of talcum powder was the first object which met 
her eye, and she caught it up just as the footsteps 
halted outside her door and a groping hand fumbled 
with the knob. It did not occur to her to cry out and 
arouse Annie, and already the knob was turning, the 
door was opening inch by inch—! 

The head of the bed was deeply shadowed, touched 
neither by moonbeams nor the glow of the lamp, and 
Claudia sat poised and motionless. A black coatsleeve 
and shoulder appeared and then a man stepped for¬ 
ward a pace into the room and paused as though con¬ 
fused. Summoning all her strength, Claudia hurled 
the heavy jar, but her wavering arm missed its aim 
and the missile struck the edge of the door just above 
the intruder’s shoulder, scattering its contents like a 
white cloud over him and falling with a crash to the 
floor. 

Annie started up with a cry but the man had already 
vanished and Claudia fell back, exhausted with her 
effort, while rapid footsteps descended the stairs. 


Stephen Stands By 121 

“For heaven’s sake, dearie, whatever—?” Annie 
began but the girl pointed hysterically at the door. 

“The man! Didn’t you see him?—Oh, call 
George!” 

“You must have been dreaming, Miss Claudia—!” 
But Annie paused. 

From below had come the faint rattle of chain and 
bolt and then the slam of the front door, and for a 
moment mistress and maid stared at each other. Then 
Annie seized the portable lamp and stepping over the 
debris of broken glass and powder upon the floor she 
flew out and down the stairs, her scanty gray hair 
streaming out behind her. 

Claudia tried to rise but her limbs gave beneath 
her and she sat down on the side of the bed, drawing 
the covers about her, as the hurried pad of feet came 
down the hall and George knocked anxiously on the 
door. 

“Some one broke into the house! I—I think he 
came from upstairs!” Claudia exclaimed. “We heard 
him run out the front door, but oh, George, please 
go up and see what—what he has been doing!” 

“A—a burglar!” In his dressing-gown and slip¬ 
pers George looked more weazened and feeble than 
ever, but he drew himself up valiantly. “Maybe 
there was two of them! I’ll just go see—don’t you 
disturb yourself, Miss Claudia.” 

He drew the door shut behind him and the slight cur¬ 
rent of air caused the powder which had scarcely set¬ 
tled to rise in a little swirling cloud again, like white 
dust. 


122 Dust to Dust 

Claudia watched it with morbid, fascinated eyes. 
So had that other dust, gray and unclean, floated up 
from that hole in the attic floor which had engulfed 
Niles Hamersley at the very moment when she seemed 
to be delivered helpless into his hands! Was dust of 
one sort or another to rise continually before her in 
ever-recurring reminder of that dreadful moment? In 
a stray moonbeam the white particles, sifting slowly 
down, took on a silvery luster and seemed to resolve 
into a vague shape out of which a ghostly face appeared 
to detach itself and float before her distraught gaze. 

Then in an instant the white cloud swirled up once 
more as Annie opened the door. 

“He got away, whoever he was, but he’s a marked 
man!” she announced grimly. “He must have been 
fairly covered with that powder when you threw the 
jar, Miss Claudia, for he’s tracked it clear down to 
the front door and out with him, and he’ll never be 
able to brush his clothes free of it; it’s bound to stick 
in the seams. Do you want I should call up the 
police?” 

“Oh, no!” Claudia shivered. “He—I’m sure he 
couldn’t have been just an ordinary burglar, Annie. 
Could he have been in—in that room where Niles is 
lying?” 

“Your poor ma’s room, that’s been sealed till now? 
No, dearie, and—and Mr. Hamersley’s body ain’t 
under this roof now; it was took away while you was 
in that first deep sleep.—Mercy sakes, what’s that!” 

George appeared once more in the doorway. 

“The door at the head of the attic stairs that the 


Stephen Stands By 123 

police doctor locked has been forced open!” His 
voice squeaked with excitement. “Even with just this 
candle I could see the trails he’s left through the dust 
all over the attic floor and down from the cupola! He 
must have come over the roof and got in that broken 
window up there, and then found he couldn’t get back 
the same way, though there’s no telling what he wanted, 
for it don’t seem as if he touched anything, only 
walked around!” 

He paused for breath and Annie asked meaningly: 

“Did you look around good upstairs? Did he go 
snooping around any other locked doors?” 

George shook his head slowly. 

“I looked, but he don’t seem to have stopped till he 
got down here. It’s mighty queer!” 

“Well, he’s gone anyway, and there’s no harm done,” 
Annie observed practically. “Go on back to bed, 
George; Miss Claudia’s got to rest.” 

Still muttering to himself George departed and 
Annie turned to her charge. 

“Lay down again, dearie, and I’ll give you the medi¬ 
cine the doctor left for you in case you woke up,” she 
urged. “I’m sure I don’t know what ever else can 
happen in this house but I guess it’ll be quiet the rest of 
the night. We’ll tell Mr. Rowe about that man in the 
morning, but try not to think of him now.” 

Claudia took the medicine obediently and permitted 
herself to be tucked into bed once more, but all sleep 
had been banished and she lay staring wide-eyed while 
the fading moonlight was merged into darkness and 
then the dawn crept in at the window. 


124 Dust to Dust 

Annie had dozed off again on the couch and only her 
asthmatic breathing broke the silence at first, but pres¬ 
ently there came the distant rattle of a milk wagon, 
its tin cans clattering as it approached from the avenue. 
Then a whistle blew with a thin, piping note, to be 
taken up in a shrill chorus which ceased as abruptly 
as it had started, leaving a stillness so profound that 
the twittering of the multitude of birds over in the 
Square came plainly to Claudia’s ears. 

She listened quietly to the sounds of the awakening 
city, her nerves mercifully deadened once more, but 
her mind alert and clear. A strange, fatalistic calm 
seemed to have settled over her spirit and she gathered 
her spent forces with a courage born of that moment 
when the intruder faced her from the doorway. 

Her glimpse of him had been too fleeting in the dim 
light to make recognition possible but a swift intuition, 
as keen and sure as visual proof, warned her that the 
man was no mere burglar. If he were not the inter¬ 
loper of that scene before the church he was neverthe¬ 
less connected in some fashion with that affair in the 
past of the man whose name she bore. Its shadow 
had not vanished with his death but had spread until 
it loomed over her, all the more menacing because of 
its unknown potentialities. 

She did not fear physical harm; that instant when 
the intruder halted confused on the threshold showed 
that he had blundered. Had he mistaken her room 
for the one directly above, in which, until a few hours 
before, Niles Hamersley’s body had lain? Whatever 
his object, he or another would come again, as the 


Stephen Stands By 125 

man Hugo Zorn had come on the previous day. 
Claudia realized that she must be prepared to meet 
him, to fight with every weapon at her command to 
stamp out this old scandal, whatever its nature, that 
threatened her name anew. 

When Annie awoke at last it was broad day, and 
despite her protestations Claudia insisted on rising and 
dressing, and then wandered about the house like a 
slender, unquiet ghost. The doorbell rang incessantly, 
as George with great dignity turned away reporters 
and the horde of curiosity seekers drawn by the flaring 
headlines with which the newspapers blazoned the 
sensational death of Niles Hamersley. 

After a shrinking glance at them Claudia had thrust 
them aside unread and she was pacing the floor of the 
library, waiting until such time as she might call up 
Matthew Rowe and tell him of that midnight visitant, 
when George presented himself. 

“Mr. Stephen is here, Miss Claudia. I was to say 
that he didn’t hope to see you, he just wanted to know 
if there was anything he could do.” 

“Stephen?” Claudia turned impulsively. “I will 
see him, George; please ask him to come in here and if 
Mr. Rowe or the doctor call, show them into the 
drawing-room.” 

Stephen had not failed her! She had disregarded 
his warning, misconstrued his motive and sent him 
away with bitter resentment, but now that his predic¬ 
tion was verified, and suffering and tragedy had come, 
he had not forgotten his promise!—“I am your friend, 
standing by if any sorrow or harm should come to 


126 


Dust to Dust 

you.” His last broken words returned to her mind, 
bringing with them a warm glow of gratitude. Dear 
Stephen! She might have known that he would be 
faithful even when her life lay in ruins about her. 

“Claudia!” His voice sounded from the doorway, 
and he paused for a moment and then came slowly 
forward. “It is more than good of you to see me. 
I had no wish to intrude at this time but I was conceited 
enough to hope that there might be some way in which 
I could serve you.” 

Claudia had found herself somehow unable to ad¬ 
vance a step to meet him, and the hand she held out 
to him was cold as ice. Could this be the handsome, 
merry-eyed, young man of a few short months ago— 
this pale, stern-faced person with lines graven deeply 
about his sensitive mouth and an odd, impressive dig¬ 
nity in his bearing? What could have so changed 
him? Impulsively she voiced her thought. 

“Stephen, have you been ill? It was kind of you to 
come, I—I don’t think there is any one else in all the 
world I could talk to just now, but you. Yet you look 
as though you too had known trouble.” 

“I’ve been working hard, that’s all.” He shrugged 
and drew forward a chair. “Don’t let me keep you 
standing. Claudia, I’m not here to offer the usual 
trite condolences, although God knows I’d give half 
my life if this trouble and grief had not come to you. 
I only want to know if there is anything I can do, if I 
can relieve you of any of the duties and cares that will 
obtrude themselves at a time like this, so that you may 


Stephen Stands By 127 

have the peace and quiet which must be more impor¬ 
tant than anything else now. May I help?” 

As he stood before her, Claudia gazed up into the 
wistful, steady brown eyes bent upon her and a sudden 
resolve came. That he could be trusted she knew be¬ 
yond question and, although Uncle Matt had proven 
himself a staunch ally, she felt a swift longing to con¬ 
fide in this friend of her childhood, to ease her heart 
of some of its intolerable burden. 

“I think it will help me a great deal just to talk to 
you, Stephen.” She indicated a chair close to her own 
and when he had seated himself she added: “You 
learned of the accident from the papers?” 

He nodded. 

“Have you seen them? You know of course that 
Mr. Rowe made a statement for you?” 

“Did he? Whatever he said was right, of course, 
but—but it wasn’t true, not all of it. Niles’ death 
was sheer accident, when the floor gave way, but every¬ 
thing was over between us before that. I—I had seen 
with your eyes, Stephen, and realized my mistake.” 
Claudia paused. “I didn’t mean to speak of the last 
time I saw you but I want you to know that your in¬ 
tuition was surer than mine. I am shocked and horri¬ 
fied by Niles’ death but I am not grieved. I seem 
to have lost the capacity for suffering—lost it when I 
knew that the man I thought I cared for was hiding 
something shameful from me!” 

A little silence fell after she had ceased speaking 
and then Stephen asked: 


128 Dust to Dust 

“That deathbed summons, then? You have reason 
to doubt it?” 

Claudia smiled wanly. 

“The best of reasons. I gave that version to the 
medical examiner and I suppose Uncle Matt repeated 
it in the statement for publication, but only he and 
old Annie know the truth. I never learned who that 
man was who followed us from the church nor why 
Niles went away with him; he refused to tell me any¬ 
thing on his return and warned me not to pry into his 
past. It was then I told him of my complete disillusion¬ 
ment and that my—my affection for him was dead. 
There was a hideous scene, and I fled from him in 
actual fear but he followed even to the attic. I found 
father’s old revolver and meant to kill myself, Stephen, 
but my courage wavered and Niles took the weapon 
from me. I think he intended to put it somewhere out 
of my reach—but the floor suddenly gave way beneath 
him, and as he fell he accidentally discharged the re¬ 
volver. That is the real story, Stephen, but the world 
must never know it! The scandal, that horrible thing 
in his past—oh, if we can only bury it with him!” 

Her companion had listened without comment, and 
only the hands clenched tightly on his knees and the 
vein which stood out throbbing on his temple betrayed 
the emotion that consumed him. Claudia was lost in 
her own despairing thoughts, however, and when he 
spoke Stephen’s voice was carefully controlled. 

“You are afraid that the truth will come out now? 
What does Mr. Rowe think, Claudia? Is there no 
way it can be averted, nothing I can do?” 


Stephen Stands By 129 

“Niles’ enemies mean to strike at me; I have already 
had proof of that.” She told him of the coming and 
mysterious departure of the man calling himself 
“Zorn,” and of the nocturnal intruder. When she 
had concluded Stephen rose and stood before her once 
more. 

“Mr. Rowe must know of this without a moment’s 
delay! You are not safe alone here in this house with 
just these two feeble old people to protect you! Will 
you let me go to him, Claudia? Will you let me tell 
him that you have confided in me and ask if he can 
suggest any way in which I can be of service?” 

“I had rather he did not know that I told even 
you,” she murmured. “You see, he’s backing me up in 
that part of my story about the bonds, and—and he 
did something else, too, to make my account of what 
took place in the attic seem really true. When he comes 
to-day I will tell him what happened in the night, of 
course, and do whatever he advises. There isn’t any¬ 
thing you can do, Stephen, but it has been a comfort 
just to tell you.” 

She rose as the doorbell rang once more and this 
time Stephen took the hand she extended in both his 
own. 

“Perhaps I shall be able to help you, after all,” he 
said slowly. “Perhaps we can lay this ghost from the 
past which threatens your peace of mind, but I will 
make no move until you tell me that I may. Remember 
that I am always within call and I shall be waiting. At 
any time, any hour that you need me, you have only 
to summon me, Claudia. I am standing by!” 


CHAPTER IX 

THE SHADOW LOOMS 


D R. VAN TUYL found his patient with bright¬ 
ened eyes and a faint touch of color in her pale 
cheeks, and he departed convinced that the 
night’s rest had worked the miracle, for Claudia had 
warned the servants to make no indiscreet reference 
to the intruder. 

She felt indeed imbued with a new spirit, but no 
drugs had wrought the change. The sight of Stephen 
Munson, the touch of his hand, the reassurance of his 
friendship and that he stood in instant readiness to 
come to her aid—it was this which had given her fresh 
courage and lightened in some measure the burden of 
despair and dread which weighed upon her soul. It 
mattered little that no practical means of availing her¬ 
self of his help had presented itself; the knowledge 
that he was at hand in case of need was sufficient for 
the moment to enable her to face the immediate future 
with renewed confidence and hope. 

How she had missed Stephen! Even in that strange 
ecstasy of happiness which now seemed so unreal to 
her, through the hurried, crowded weeks of her en¬ 
gagement, the whirl of preparation for the new life 
that she had fondly believed lay before her, she had 
missed his familiar presence, his ready sympathy and 
quiet understanding. 


130 


The Shadow Looms 131 

Niles’ personality had engulfed hers, he had de¬ 
manded and she had given, but Stephen had always 
felt her every mood and responded to it, effacing him¬ 
self; he had anticipated her every wish, been at once 
her comrade and her slave as long as she could remem¬ 
ber, and even in the height of her infatuation some¬ 
thing had been wanting. 

How strange that she should only realize it now, 
that only when he stood again in her presence had the 
knowledge come to her of what his friendship meant! 
Through the bitterness of her disillusionment, the shock 
of the tragedy, and anguish of apprehension lest the 
cloud which enshrouded Niles’ memory should over¬ 
whelm her also, Stephen appeared as a very tower of 
strength. She was glad that she had taken him into 
her confidence. 

It had not been easy. She had obeyed that first swift 
impulse knowing that, if she temporized, the pride 
which was her ruling passion would have sealed her 
lips, but Stephen had understood! There had been no 
“trite condolence” as he said, no reminder of his warn¬ 
ing nor open expression of sympathy and pity that 
would have made her soul writhe, but merely the quiet 
assurance that he was at her service. How arrogantly 
she had flouted his friendship and now what a pre¬ 
cious thing it was! 

Matthew Rowe did not make his appearance until 
nearly noon, and it seemed to Claudia that he looked 
haggard and careworn, although the smile with which 
he greeted her was as kindly as ever and his tone as 
affectionately solicitous. 


132 Dust to Dust 

“You slept well, my child? Dr. Van Tuyl helped 
you to get some rest?” 

“Until a man broke into my room, Uncle Matt! I 
threw a powder jar at him as he stood in the doorway 
and he disappeared even before Annie started up.” 

“‘A man!’” Matthew Rowe echoed, drawing his 
brows together. “Are you sure you didn’t imagine—?” 

“Imagination wouldn’t have trailed the powder 
down to the front door, Uncle Matt, nor broken open 
the attic door, which George says the medical examiner 
locked!” 

She told him in detail of the affair, and, summoning 
George, he went to examine the attic door for him¬ 
self. Then, while she waited, Claudia heard him at 
the telephone and when he rejoined her there was an 
added gravity in his manner. 

“You should have called me up at my rooms the 
moment you knew the man had escaped, Claudia; the 
police ought to have been notified immediately.” 

“But why?” she cried. “I did so hope to avoid 
further notoriety, and there was nothing stolen—” 

“The forced lock on the door and those fresh foot¬ 
prints in the attic would have to be explained to the 
authorities, my dear.” The attorney seated himself 
on the couch beside her. “Their investigation is not 
concluded yet, and this house—with every one and 
everything in it—is technically still in their hands. 
You cannot seem to understand—!” 

“I confess I can’t!” Claudia paused, biting her lip. 
“It is an outrage that this house should be invaded by 
the police. They should have heard my explanation 


The Shadow Looms 133 

yesterday and gone, not treated this dreadful affair 
as though—as though we were people of no account! 
It is awful enough that the Langham name should be 
dragged into print without having a sensational mys¬ 
tery attached to it where none exists!” 

She raised her eyes to his, but it was evident that 
Uncle Matt did not share her indignation. Why did 
he look at her so oddly, almost compassionately? She 
felt a curious sense of alienation, as though this old 
friend whom she relied upon as a second father had 
become all at once a mere soulless legal adviser, with 
more consideration for the stupid methods of the 
police department than for what was due to her! 

As though in confirmation of her thought he replied 
slowly: 

“ ‘The law is no respecter of persons,’ Claudia. 
That is a truth which you cannot appreciate because 
it has never been brought home to you before. If it is 
our object to avoid scandal and notoriety we must 
primarily convince the authorities that we have noth¬ 
ing to conceal, that even in irrelevant details we have 
told only the truth. Arrogance will only breed an¬ 
tagonism.” 

“What difference does it make whether they are 
antagonistic or not?” Claudia demanded. “We aren’t 
concealing anything except the real state of affairs be¬ 
tween Niles and me, and the reason for it!—I don’t 
mean to seem ungrateful for all you are doing, Uncle 
Matt, and if they come again I will try to be patient, 
but if you knew how humiliating it seems—!” 

“I do, my dear, but there is no help for it. Mr. 


134 Dust to Dust 

Dawes is on his way here now and I advise you to tell 
him with every show of frankness just what occurred. 
It will do no harm, however, if you appear to take it 
for granted that the fellow was an ordinary burglar, 
and the more vague your description the better. If 
he is, as you think, connected in some way with this 
mystery in your husband’s past, we don’t want the 
police getting hold of him before we find out just what 
we have to cope with, and decide how to stamp it out.” 
Rowe leaned forward earnestly. “Claudia, you have 
promised to be absolutely candid with me.—Why do 
you think that man broke in here last night? What 
object had he?” 

“I can only think that he must have learned in some 
way what—what had happened to Niles and—and the 
location of the room into which he fell,” she responded 
hesitatingly. “I can’t imagine how he found it out, 
but I believe he thought the body was still there and 
he wanted something—some papers, perhaps—that 
might be in one of the pockets. In the dark he blun¬ 
dered and entered my room in mistake for the one 
just above.—There doesn’t seem to be any other ex¬ 
planation, Uncle Matt, and I saw by the way he 
stopped on the threshold, in the instant before I hurled 
that jar at him, that he was taken aback at finding 
himself there.—What papers were found on Niles, do 
you know? Didn’t Dr. Jeffreys or that Mr. Dawes 
look?” 

“I searched him first, before even Dr. Van Tuyl 
saw him,” the attorney remarked grimly. “There 
were no papers of a private nature, but we must make 


The Shadow Looms 135 

it a point to go thoroughly over his effects when you 
feel equal to it. We must find out what this thing was 
which hung over him—if it was a matter of scandal, or 
worse. Be careful when Dawes comes, child. He is 
more shrewd than perhaps you give him credit for 
being and although you carried off a difficult situation 
well yesterday, remember that your story may still look 
a trifle fishy to him in view of the abrupt way Hamers- 
ley left you immediately after the ceremony. Your 
unwavering belief in the explanation he is supposed to 
have given you and your devotion to his memory are 
as important to impress on Dawes now as at your first 
interview—if we are to keep him from discovering the 
skeleton in the closet!” 

Why did Uncle Matt add the last phrase as though 
there could be any other reason for her deception? 
There was something in his attitude, just as there had 
been on the previous day, which she could not under¬ 
stand, but his advice was sound. Much as she detested 
the role she must still pretend, not only to Dawes but 
to all the world, that her idol had had no feet of clay. 

She had forgotten to tell the attorney that Stephen 
called, and as the optimism with which his visit had 
inspired her waned with the mounting of her troubles 
once more, her eyes dulled and the color ebbed from 
her cheeks. When Dawes came he found the young 
widow of Niles Hamersley composed, but pensive and 
wan, and she greeted him with an air of bewildered 
sorrow that had every appearance of sincerity. 

After giving him her account of the supposed 
burglar’s intrusion and escape, she added: 


136 Dust to Dust 

“Mr. Rowe said I should have called the police at 
once, but as long as the man had gotten away and my 
jewels and the silver were safe, it didn’t occur to me 
to do so. He said Dr. Jeffreys ought to have been 
notified because the burglar got in through the attic 
and forced the door, but I didn’t even know the doctor 
had locked it! I—I haven’t any idea of the formali¬ 
ties necessary when a terrible thing like this happens.” 

Dawes dismissed her explanation with a nod. 

“There was a light in your room, you say?” 

“Yes, a very low one. My old nurse was asleep on 
the couch at the foot of my bed and the burglar must 
have caught sight of her when he stopped; I threw the 
jar of powder then, and he ran.” Was her tone suffi¬ 
ciently artless, Claudia wondered? The round, ruddy 
countenance before her told her nothing and Uncle 
Matt had retired to the window, where he stood con¬ 
templating from behind the curtains the changing 
groups of morbid sightseers, as though purposely de¬ 
taching himself from the present interview. 

“What did he look like? How was he dressed?” 
Dawes rapped out the questions briskly. “Give me as 
accurate a description of him as you can, Mrs. Ha- 
mersley.” 

“I’m afraid I can’t describe him at all!” Claudia 
made a little helpless gesture. “He had on some 
sort of a soft hat, I think, for his face was in shadow, 
and dark clothing. I couldn’t tell whether he was tall 
or short—I was so startled, and then my glimpse of 
him was only momentary.” 

Dawes’ small, twinkling eyes had narrowed in the 


The Shadow Looms 137 

expression she remembered from yesterday. Could 
he suspect that she was deliberately vague in her 
reply ? The intruder had actually been small and slight, 
and he had seemed to bear a general resemblance to 
the man who had followed from the church, but that 
might have been due solely to her excited imagina¬ 
tion. Claudia could not be sure, but she wished that 
Dawes would turn that keen, searching glance from 
her face! 

“That is unfortunate.” His tone was dry. “When 
you threw the jar at him, he ran straight downstairs 
and out the front door?” 

“Yes. His footsteps sounded down the stairs and 
Annie too heard him fumble with the key and chain, 
and then slam the door after him.” 

“How many servants do you keep ordinarily, be¬ 
sides Annie and George?” 

Claudia looked her surprise at the seeming irrel¬ 
evancy of the question. 

“Only four; the cook, laundress, housemaid and 
kitchenmaid. I have been living very quietly, you 
know, but the staff would have been augmented—” 

“No men, then, except old George?” He inter¬ 
rupted her brusquely. “Does your chauffeur sleep in 
the house?” 

“Oh, no. John has his own home—” Claudia broke 
off. “Surely you don’t think—?” 

“That it was an inside job?” he finished for her, and 
then at her blank expression he added: “Your burglar 
was familiar with the house, Mrs. Hamersley, or at 
least knew how it was laid out inside if he could find 


138 Dust to Dust 

his way straight to the front door in the dark.—Ill 
have a look around later, but I want some informa¬ 
tion from you for the medical examiner’s report. 
How long have you known Mr. Hamersley?” 

Claudia braced herself. Had her heart ceased to 
beat? It felt like a stone in her breaSt and the effort 
to draw her breath was almost pain, but she forced 
herself to reply: 

“Two years.’’ 

“Where did he come from originally?” 

“He was born in Canada, in some small town up 
in the Northwest. I—I have forgotten the name.” 
She was aware that Uncle Matt had half turned from 
the window and was listening intently, but she could 
not look to him for her cue; there had been no discus¬ 
sion of Niles Hamersley’s early history between them, 
no preparation for this! 

“You have the names and addresses of his rela¬ 
tives, however.” Dawes spoke authoritatively as 
though stating a fact but Claudia shook her head. 

“Mr. Hamersley had none. He told me more than 
once that he was quite alone in the world.” 

It was the literal truth, and as she spoke the thought 
came to her for the first time of how little she really 
knew of the man she had married. During the long 
night of suspense following his abrupt departure at the 
church door she had realized dimly that the life of 
Niles Hamersley was a sealed book but now it came 
home to her in full force. Why had the question never 
arisen in her mind during their betrothal? Had his 
personality so blinded her that she had never thought 


The Shadow Looms 139 

to look back, but only forward into the future which 
was not to be? 

Her heart was thumping heavily once more and she 
was suddenly conscious of the pause which had fol¬ 
lowed her reply. Was Dawes purposely waiting for 
her to volunteer a further statement? She set her 
lips tightly, and then, as though even that slight change 
of expression had not escaped his notice, he spoke. 

“What did he tell you of his family? Where was 
he educated, what was his business? Have you any 
idea of the value of his estate?” 

“He told me very little, and I never asked; it did 
not occur to me to do so.” Claudia’s pride was up in 
arms at the insistence in his tone. She was still a 
Langham. How dared this man catechize her in this 
manner? Niles Hamersley was dead; his antecedents 
and his personal affairs were no concern of the authori¬ 
ties, for even the secret thing which hung over his past 
had nothing to do with the tragic accident that had 
ended his life. 

But Uncle Matt was advancing toward them and 
she glanced at him in time to read his warning frown. 
Arrogance would only breed antagonism, he had said; 
she must impress this man anew with her utter faith 
in her husband! Lifting her eyes to his, she contin¬ 
ued: 

“Mr. Hamersley spoke frequently of his family, of 
course, in a general way. His father was a younger 
son who came from England to engage in sheep farm¬ 
ing, I believe, but he became interested in mines or oil 
and made a fortune. I know nothing about his mother 


140 


Dust to Dust 

except that she was an American girl, an orphan who 
came from the Coast somewhere. Mr. Hamersley 
himself was not a university man. I fancy he obtained 
his education merely in local schools, and I don’t think 
he was ever actively engaged in business; he traded in 
Wall Street occasionally but more for amusement, ex¬ 
citement, than anything else. At least, that is what I 
gathered, for we never discussed financial affairs, and 
I haven’t given a thought to the value of his estate; 
I don’t even know whether he—he made a will or 
not. Mr. Rowe will have to look into all these mat¬ 
ters for me, I cannot fix my mind on them now!” 

“Do you know when Mr. Hamersley left Canada 
and where he went before coming to New York?” 

Dared she tell Dawes the little she did know? 
Would it be safe? What if the authorities for some 
reason decided to look up Niles’ past! With the re¬ 
sources at their command would they not be sure to un¬ 
earth the very thing which she was trying so desper¬ 
ately to keep from the world? 

“I couldn’t say when he left Canada but I know 
that he traveled practically all over the globe; shot big 
game in India and Africa, fished in Norway and Scot¬ 
land and Labrador—” Claudia broke off once more, 
this time with a little catch in her breath. “Surely 
the medical examiner does not require all this for his 
report! It—it is inexpressibly painful to me! Mr. 
Hamersley’s friends—he was a member of several ex¬ 
clusive clubs, an intimate associate of the most promi¬ 
nent men in the city—they will be able to tell you all 
you wish to know!” 


The Shadow Looms 141 

“Who was his lawyer?” Dawes turned at last to 
Matthew Rowe and the latter responded smoothly: 

“I have already taken steps to ascertain that, with 
a view to the settlement of the estate. I knew Mr. 
Hamersley very slightly but of course his reputation, 
his standing, was all-sufficient, and Miss Langham was 
of age when she decided to contract this marriage. 
Otherwise I might have considered it expedient to make 
formal inquiries, but in his case the very thought 
would have been ridiculous! We must advertise for 
heirs, as a matter of form, and if we receive any re¬ 
sults I will communicate with you.” 

Dawes shrugged and rose. 

“Mr. Hamersley’s body will be at your disposal this 
afternoon,” he observed. “The medical examiner has 
performed the autopsy and when I get back down¬ 
town he will be ready to hand in his report. I’ll take 
a look at the attic now and I want to see George.” 

Rowe accompanied him from the room, and Claudia 
sat where they had left her, deep in conjecture. Did 
his final words mean that this detestable police in¬ 
vestigation was over? What had prompted these in¬ 
quiries into the past if they were satisfied that no cloud 
hung over her husband that might have led to his de¬ 
liberate firing of that shot? 

Perhaps it was the mere routine of the department, 
though. Claudia breathed more freely at the thought. 
Perhaps there remained only to consign the body of 
Niles Hamersley to the ground with all the dignity 
befitting one who had married a Langham, and then 
if that man who had taken him from her at the church 


142 


Dust to Dust 

should appear again with any ugly reminder of a hidden 
stain upon his memory Uncle Matt should deal with 
the situation. 

Dawes departed without further speech with her, 
and when Matthew Rowe reappeared he had his hat 
and stick in his hand. 

“I must be getting on, Claudia, to make the final 
arrangements for the funeral. To-morrow will be 
Saturday and without any show of indecent haste I 
think it would be well to have everything over. Are 
there any special directions you want me to give?” 

“No.” She shuddered, and her voice was very low. 
“I would rather leave it all in your hands, Uncle 
Matt. I shall never be able to thank you for what 
you are doing for me and I won’t try now! You don’t 
know what your counsel and support have meant to 
me!—Now, if we can only bury Niles’ past with 
him—J” 

“You told all the truth to Dawes just now?” For 
a moment the attorney held in his the hand she had 
extended in farewell. “Did Hamersley really tell you 
nothing more about himself than that? I have blamed 
myself a hundred times in the last two days that I did 
not obtain his history before I permitted you to en¬ 
trust your life to him, but you had made your choice 
before you took me into your confidence, my dear.” 

“I don’t believe I would have listened to you!” 
Claudia shook her head with a sad little smile. “Look¬ 
ing back, it seems as though I had been bewitched, as 
though a spell were cast over me! It does appear in¬ 
credible that I should never even have wanted to know 


The Shadow Looms 143 

any more about him, but before I met him he had made 
such an assured place for himself in our world and his 
personality was so strong, so dominant, that I did not 
give a thought to his past. I told Mr. Dawes all that 
I learned from Niles’ own lips except one thing; what¬ 
ever his estate, he did not inherit it all but made a great 
deal in earlier stock speculations in some other city, 
Chicago, I think. From chance remarks I gathered 
that he had spent some years in the Middle West but 
I did not mention it just now because it came to me that 
perhaps during those years this—this shadow settled 
over his life.” 

“If you hear anything more about it, if an attempt 
should be made by that fellow who accosted Hamers- 
ley at the church to approach you in any way, send him 
to me.” Matthew Rowe paused in the doorway. “I 
think we may safely conclude, however, that the worst 
of your troubles are over.” 

With a great part of the burden of anxiety lifted 
from her spirit, Claudia ate the dainty luncheon which 
Annie prepared and then allowed herself to be per¬ 
suaded to lie down. Uncle Matt must be right; if 
the man Zorn, who had called on the previous after¬ 
noon, was indeed the instrument of Nemesis that had 
halted Niles there before the church, he could not have 
known of the tragedy which had taken place so shortly 
before his coming, but some inkling of it must have 
reached him while he waited. That would account for 
his precipitate departure, and if the intrusion during 
the night had been for the purpose of searching Niles’ 
body it was surely a final attempt to keep that affair 


144 Dust to Dust 

of the past from coming to light. Now she would 
only have to put it from her thoughts forever and when 
on the morrow her duty to the man whose name she 
bore should be fulfilled she would be at peace to take 
up her life again. 

A knock at the door interrupted her musing and 
she rose wearily to admit old George. He was trem¬ 
bling with agitation and his voice had sunk to a hoarse 
whisper. 

“That man is here again, Miss Claudia, the one 
calling himself Mr. Hugo Zorn. He’s more set on 
seeing you than ever, and Annie said that if you re¬ 
ceived him I was to ask you to look real close at the 
clothes he’s wearing. She said you’d understand.” 

Zorn!—And Annie suspected him to be the man 
who had broken in the night before! Her hint was 
unmistakable; had she not declared that the traces of 
powder from the jar hurled at the intruder would 
cling, making him a marked man? 

In a curiously dull, level tone Claudia told George 
to say that she would receive her visitor. Smooth¬ 
ing her hair mechanically, she descended the stairs 
with a dragging step. Had Uncle Matt been too san¬ 
guine, after all? Was that shadow which only now 
she had thought banished forever to rise again on her 
horizon? Would Hugo Zorn prove to be the man she 
feared? 

Going straight to the reception-room she crossed 
the threshold and advanced a few paces toward the 
man who had risen at her entrance. Then she paused 
and for a moment they regarded each other. Slight 


The Shadow Looms 145 

and sallow, with those repulsively red lips and the 
narrow eyes gleaming like a snake’s beneath their 
heavy lids, the interloper of the church door stood 
before her, and darker and more sinister than ever 
the shadow loomed. 


CHAPTER X 

HUGO ZORN STRIKES 

“\TOU wished to see me? I am Mrs. Hamers- 
J ley.” Claudia stood slim and straight before 
her visitor and marveled inwardly at the 
steady tone of her own voice, for her heart was beat¬ 
ing like a trip-hammer and it seemed pulsing in her 
ears. “You called yesterday, I believe, but you didn’t 
wait.” 

“I learned that I had arrived too late.” It was 
that guttural voice she remembered from the church, 
in that tense moment when he had first addressed 
Niles, and his lip lifted in a smile which disclosed 
long, even teeth of an astonishing whiteness. “I hoped 
to reach here before your husband returned. I was 
his friend.” 

“You brought a message to him at our wedding,” 
Claudia observed without preamble. She had made 
no move to seat herself and as her caller remained 
standing a shaft of sunlight filtering through the lace 
curtain at the window fell upon his shoulder. In the 
seam of his otherwise immaculate sack coat a faint 
thread of dusty white was revealed. Her instinct had 
not been at fault! It was imperative that this man, 
even more than the authorities, should believe the 
version of her last hour with her husband that she 
had given to the world, yet his very presence sickened 
146 


Hugo Zorn Strikes 147 

her! Let him tell his wretched story of the past and 
go! 

“The account of the dying benefactor given to the 
papers was most touching, most clever!” Zorn bowed 
with a little gesture of mock deprecation. “However, 
there need be no pretense between us, Mrs. Hamers- 
ley!” 

“‘Pretense’?” Claudia echoed quickly. Here was 
danger, and she forced a note of surprise in her tone. 
“But you came from Boston, from poor Mr. Brown. 
My husband told me—!” 

“We waste time!” he interrupted, his sallow face 
darkening. “I know what must have taken place be¬ 
tween you when Hamersley came home. He said 
when he left you there before the church that you’d 
hate him from that moment; he knew his very look 
had given him away, and there wouldn’t be a chance 
in a million for him to win you back. I thought that 
was putting it too strong, for he was always a wizard 
with women, but you hated him, all right! I never 
guessed till I came yesterday afternoon, though, how 
far you might let it carry you!” 

Claudia felt a premonitory chill run through her 
veins. The man’s effrontery showed all too clearly 
that he believed he was master of the situation. Yet 
what hold could he have over her? The bond be¬ 
tween himself and Niles Hamersley had been severed 
with the latter’s death, and if he could be made to 
think she did not fear its public disclosure he would 
be checkmated. 

“I do not understand. You speak very strangely, 


148 Dust to Dust 

Mr. Zorn! Why should I hate my husband?” She 
hesitated, and then decided to take the initiative. “If 
it was not true about his ill friend, have you come to 
tell me why he went away with you and where you 
took him?” 

“That depends!” Again those repulsively red lips 
parted in a smile of infinite meaning. “That’s what 
I came for yesterday. It’s quite a long story, going 
back some years, and it would have interested a lot 
of people while Hamersley lived. We’re old friends 
as I said, and I did a favor for him once; took a 
mighty big risk, too, but he never was grateful. When 
I turned up the other day at the time when I thought 
it would be worth most to him to have that story for¬ 
gotten he couldn’t see how valuable it was, but I closed 
the deal with him on his own terms because I figured 
you’d be more sensible.” 

“Blackmail?” Claudia’s lip curled but little specks 
were dancing before her eyes. What was this dread¬ 
ful thing which Niles had done? 

Zorn shrugged his narrow shoulders. 

“Friendship ought to be worth something in this 
world! I stood ready to be the same friend to you 
that I was to him; ready, if you showed you appreci¬ 
ated it, to forget that old story—but that was yes¬ 
terday! Now I can do you a bigger favor even than 
I did him in old times, Mrs. Hamersley, but I’ve got to 
have a fitting return for it, and I know what it’s 
worth!” 

“Do you think you would be believed if you at¬ 
tempted to malign Mr. Hamersley’s memory to the 


Hugo Zorn Strikes 149 

world now?” Claudia asked scornfully. “You are 
very frank about your business methods, Mr. Zorn! 
My husband was very ill-advised if he paid you any¬ 
thing to forget some unfortunate episode in his life, for 
your memory is treacherous; you proved that by trying 
to reach me yesterday. His past has nothing to do 
with me, no matter how many other people may be 
interested in your reminiscences! Did you imagine 
I would pay you to suppress some old scandal?” 

“It would be suppressing evidence, now.” His eyes 
had narrowed to mere slits and gleamed evilly, but 
Claudia was scarcely conscious of their gaze. “Evi¬ 
dence!” What could this dreadful creature mean? 
He advanced a step toward her and his guttural tones 
lowered. “Do you suppose I haven’t doped out how 
Hamersley died? That excuse for his leaving you 
could easy be proved a lie if the police bother to find 
out whether a death certificate was issued in Boston 
for ‘Henry Brown’ or not. They think you’d swal¬ 
lowed it, though, and you are a Langham! That’s why 
they’ve swallowed the rest of your story about the lov¬ 
ing reunion yesterday, and the revolver going off acci¬ 
dentally when Hamersley fell through the floor!” 

His speech had coarsened but Claudia took no note 
of the words themselves. It would be useless, of 
course, to try to convince him that there had been no 
break with Niles, but did he doubt the accident with 
the revolver? Could he believe her husband had com¬ 
mitted suicide? Did this old scandal, whatever it was, 
seem “evidence” of it to him? 

“I have listened long enough!” she said. “If you 


150 Dust to Dust 

think that Mr. Hamersley killed himself you must be 
mad!” 

“ ‘Killed himself’?” Zorn laughed and there was 
something in the quality of his voice which made 
Claudia’s nerves crawl. “Even the police wouldn’t be 
fools enough to think that! They might figure, though, 
that you’d made up that ‘Henry Brown’ story so’s they 
wouldn’t guess there’d been bad blood between you. 
If they did that, all they’d need would be the motive 
and what I could tell them would supply that. Begin 
to see where I can do you a favor, Mrs. Hamersley?” 

Without knowing why, Claudia felt suddenly afraid! 
Like some evil genius, this man’s advent had brought 
disillusionment, suffering, tragedy into her life. What 
was he threatening now?—But he must not be allowed 
to see that he had caused her even this disquietude! 
She shook her head and replied: 

“No, Mr. Zorn! I fail to see how anything you 
could tell the authorities about my husband’s past could 
affect me in any way!” 

“You hated him!” The sardonic mask for a mo¬ 
ment laid aside and to her horrified eyes the man’s 
face seemed that of a veritable fiend. “Nobody was 
ever good enough for you till he hypnotized you the 
way he did the others, but you married him and when 
you found out you’d tied yourself to a man with some¬ 
thing in his life that he was afraid of, something that 
might drag him in the dust and you with him, you hated 
him worse than death! When he came to you yester¬ 
day and tried to make you see that you’d have to stick 
whether you liked it or not—Oh, I know the line he 


Hugo Zorn Strikes 151 

meant to take!—you told him to go! Hamersley 
wasn’t the kind you could get rid of so easy, though, 
and then you rushed up to the attic for that revolver. 
He followed you and you let him have it—and then 
that rotten old floor gave way under him! The police 
might have doped this out for themselves if they knew 
you hated him and why. That’s all they need for a 
case against you, the motive!” 

“Stop!” Claudia found her voice at last in a low, 
choking cry. From the instant his meaning burst upon 
her consciousness she had tried to silence him but sheer 
horror rendered her dumb. Now it gave place to a 
mounting rage and scorn such as she had not known 
even when Niles himself stood in her presence stripped 
of all pretense. Did this blackmailer think to ter¬ 
rorize her with his infamous insinuations? That he 
would dare carry out his implied threat to go to the 
authorities with his story was of course absurd, but 
his venturing to approach her at all was an outrage such 
as she had never dreamed of encountering! She turned 
to the bell. 

“You have said enough. I shall not trouble to reply 
to you, but if you approach this house again or attempt 
to molest me in any way you will be placed under 
arrest. I should give you in charge now, not only for 
this effort at blackmail but for breaking into my home 
last night!” She paused as Zorn drew in his breath 
sharply, but he did not speak and under her scarify¬ 
ing gaze his sullen eyes wavered and fell. “I do not 
care, however, to be annoyed by such a petty, sordid 
matter. Take your story to whomever you will.” 


152 Dust to Dust 

“You’d better think this over, Mrs. Hamersley!” 
He spoke now in a hurried undertone, for George was 
approaching down the hall. “I’ve only said what 
others beside the police may be thinking this minute, 
even without knowing what I do! I’ll give you a couple 
of days—till Sunday evening, say,—then I’ll ’phone 
you and if you’re wise you’ll be ready to talk business 
with me.” 

“George!” Claudia turned without reply. “Mr. 
Zorn is leaving, please show him to the door. I am 
not at home to him again.” 

She mounted the stairs and, entering her room, 
closed and locked the door. The very thought of 
Annie’s curious questioning now was unbearable and 
she wanted to see no one. She felt a strange, repug¬ 
nant sense of uncleanness, as though she had been 
breathing poisonous air and come in contact with some 
noisome thing, and she quivered from head to foot 
with disgust and loathing. 

How had this creature dared to approach her? 
How dared he! That for a time was all that filled her 
raging brain. The new name which she bore had be¬ 
come an unspeakable degradation, it was identified 
with something dishonorable, perhaps even criminal, 
for the suppression of which she, Drayton Langham’s 
daughter, had been asked for blood money! Writh¬ 
ing under the stigma, no speculation entered her mind 
at first as to the possible nature of Niles Hamersley’s 
guilt; it was enough that he had placed himself in the 
power of such a low being as Zorn, and that the lat¬ 
ter should imagine his power extended over her also. 


Hugo Zorn Strikes 153 

As a measure of composure returned to her, how¬ 
ever, Claudia found herself wondering with ever- 
increasing dread what it was which the past held. 
Would she have been wiser, after all, to temporize with 
this blackmailer, to let him tell his story in order that, 
as Uncle Matt had said, they might know what they 
had to cope with and decide how to stamp it out? 

Yet except for their own information, of what avail 
would it be? To prosecute Zorn would only mean pre¬ 
cipitating the scandal and the alternative, to stoop to 
traffic with him, was too utterly shameful to be con¬ 
sidered! To be sure, she had placed herself in Uncle 
Matt’s hands and he had directed that if Zorn came to 
her he was to be sent to him, but Claudia was glad 
that she had disregarded this dictum. She had handled 
the situation for herself, in the only way her pride and 
self-respect could tolerate, and it would be best for 
Uncle Matt not to know she had talked with this black¬ 
mailer, above all that he would telephone on Sunday 
night in a final attempt to force her into an infamous 
bargain. She would not admit even to herself the 
suspicion that Uncle Matt might advise some com¬ 
promise, but she was determined that not one penny 
should be paid to still Zorn’s idle threats. The stain 
on the name she bore was not of her placing but she 
would be forever dishonored in her own sight if she 
listened for an instant to such a proposition. 

Annie came twice to the door, dolefully pleading for 
admittance, but Claudia sent her away and until dark¬ 
ness fell paced the floor, still driven by indignation. 
But even Annie and George must not know, they must 


154 


Dust to Dust 

not guess the humiliation of soul which the coming of 
the man Zorn had brought! The old nurse had al¬ 
ready surmised that he might have been the intruder of 
the night before, but neither of them should ever sus¬ 
pect their mistress’ marriage had so lowered her as to 
subject her to an attempt at extortion! 

Opening the door at last, she permitted Annie to 
dress her and then descended to the dining-room where 
she made a pretense of eating the dinner George placed 
before her. The food choked her, the very air was 
oppressive and the old butler’s anxious, questioning 
gaze was almost more than she could endure. 

When she arose at length from the table he 
faltered: 

“That man, Miss Claudia—he didn’t mean more 
trouble to you, did he? I told Annie the first time he 
came that I didn’t like his sneaking ways, and now I’m 
sorry I ever let him in!” 

“No, you were quite right, George. He was just a 
—a crank, with the usual demand that I finance him 
in some impossible scheme. You—you remember how 
they used to approach father now and then?” She 
hesitated and then added hurriedly: “Don’t mention 
his coming to Mr. Rowe; I am giving him enough 
trouble just now without annoying him over such a 
small matter, and I don’t think the man will attempt 
to see me again. If he should happen to telephone, 
however, I will give you a message for him.” 

Had she succeeded in deceiving old George ? 
Claudia shrugged wearily as she made her way once 
more to her room. She had silenced him, at any rate, 


Hugo Zorn Strikes 155 

and he would never dream the wretched truth. Her 
bitter resentment had burned down to a dull contempt 
and she resolved to dismiss the man from her mind. 
His odious attempt had failed of its object, and his 
threat had been a mere idle effort at intimidation. The 
accusation he had made would have been horrible, of 
course, if it had not been so utterly absurd, but his sole 
object was to terrorize her. He would never dare 
make such an insane charge against her. 

She dreaded the long night and the thoughts which 
would come unbidden to bear her company, but almost 
at once a deadening fatigue overcame her, more mental 
than physical, and she dropped into a heavy slumber. 

Awakened from it, after long hours, by a bright 
shaft of moonlight beaming full upon her face, Claudia 
sat up drowsily and looked about her. Annie was again 
at her self-appointed post, snoring peacefully on the 
couch at the bed’s foot, and save for her stertorous 
breathing all was still. Without arousing her, Claudia 
slipped out of bed and went to the window to draw 
down the shade but paused with her hand on the cord. 

Who could that be, pacing slowly along the side¬ 
walk just below? There was something familiar in 
that tall, erect figure and the swinging, easy stride. 
The night breeze had blown the curtain aside and on a 
sudden impulse Claudia leaned slightly from the opened 
window and watched the figure as it passed on a few 
yards toward the Avenue then wheeled with almost 
military precision and started back still at that meas¬ 
ured pace. 

Who was he? Claudia drew a little quivering 


156 Dust to Dust 

breath and a gentle, warm glow settled about her heart. 
In a minute he would come within the radius of the 
street lamp, she would see his face! He was no noc¬ 
turnal stroller; that even, firm tread denoted purpose 
and there was something alert and watchful in the 
quick turn of his head as he scanned the house. 

There! He had entered the circle of light, he was 
lifting his face, looking straight toward her window—! 
Claudia drew back hastily, blushing in the semi-dark¬ 
ness. 

It was Stephen! When she told him of her previous 
night’s experience he had said that she was not safe 
there with only George and Annie, and now he had con¬ 
stituted himself her protector! Believing perhaps that 
she would never even know, he was patrolling her 
house, on guard! Dear, loyal Stevie! He had re¬ 
minded her during that memorable interview when she 
disregarded his warning, that they had as children 
played at being brother and sister; he was proving him¬ 
self a brother indeed now! 

A feeling of peace and security stole over her, a 
blessed sense of relaxation as though a healing touch 
had come to her bruised spirit, and Claudia crept into 
bed once more, a tender hint of a smile curving her 
pale lips. Stephen was watching, no harm could come 
to her now! Swiftly, softly, as though to a little child, 
sleep descended upon her. 


CHAPTER XI 


IN HALLOWED GROUND 

C LAUDIA awakened refreshed and more calm 
than at any other time during those torturing 
three days. There seemed an added oppression 
in the silence which brooded over the house, a hush 
as though Time itself stood still awaiting an impending 
event, but remembrance came to her with a sharp 
pang only when Annie, thin-lipped and long of counte¬ 
nance, laid over a chair a new black gown of such 
elaborate mode as to appear frivolous despite its 
streamers of crepe. 

The funeral! Niles Hamersley, after a life whose 
vicissitudes might be only conjectured and whose con¬ 
trolling impulses for good and evil must now remain 
forever shrouded in mystery, was to receive that 
morning the final honors due to the memory which 
the world would hold of him, and then would lie in 
hallowed ground. How strange it still seemed that 
she could contemplate the momentous fact with no 
other emotion than the aftermath of horror from 
having witnessed the tragedy of his death. The sense 
of change, of transition, the realization of a need for 
readjustment to meet the exigencies of the immediate 
future, until she might close the house for a time and 
take Annie to some quiet retreat. . . . Yet how could 
157 


158 Dust to Dust 

she think of these things with the hour of mental 
travail before her? 

“Did you order this gown, Annie?” she asked as 
the old woman stood in eloquent silence waiting for a 
comment. 

“Does it look’s if I had?” Annie sniffed. “Mr. 
Rowe said everything was to be left to him and I 
wasn’t to bother you with a question, and he got your 
measurements from me yesterday. That Mrs. Yates 
who called on you picked it out for him together with 
your hat and veil, and I must say, Miss Claudia, if 
he’d left it to me—!” 

“ ‘Mrs. Yates’!” Claudia repeated, annoyed. Why 
did that commonplace, underbred climber intrude in 
her affairs at this time, usurping the privilege of the 
most intimate of friends? 

Friends! But she had through George denied her¬ 
self to all of her own set who had called on the pre¬ 
vious day. Now it had devolved upon this outsider 
to render her a service which must be acknowledged 
by the social sponsorship for which the woman was 
evidently angling. What could Uncle Matt have been 
thinking of to place her in such a position? Only the 
oldest family friends had called; of course Mrs. Sears 
Edgett and others on the outer fringe had not at¬ 
tempted to force themselves upon her, they hadn’t 
ventured to intrude upon her supposed grief, but— 
could there have been another reason? Had “others,” 
as the unspeakable Zorn insinuated, found food for 
conjecture in the details of the tragedy and discreetly 
awaited the course of events? 


In Hallowed Ground 159 

“There, Miss Claudia! It’s the loudest-looking 
mourning ever I see, but I s’pose it’ll have to do for 
now!” Annie shook her head dubiously at the result 
of her handiwork. “Everything’s ready for the serv¬ 
ices in the drawing-room, and though Mr. Rowe 
wanted the funeral private there’s a mass of flowers 
come.” 

Everything was ready! While she slept Niles must 
have been brought back for the last time to the house 
which was to have received him as master! A short 
hour, and it would be purged forever of his presence! 
But Annie had continued garrulously: 

“You’ll need a secretary to answer all the letters 
and cards that’s been sent but folks haven’t called the 
way they did when your father died. I only hope 
they’ll leave you in peace when everything’s over, so’s 
you can rest, dearie, and forget this terrible time, but 
it’ll be a queer funeral to be held under this roof!” 

Unconsciously she had touched upon Claudia’s 
earlier thought and the innocent comment carried 
with it a sting. So even her old nurse had noted the 
aloof bearing of all but the oldest established of so¬ 
ciety! Not for worlds would she acknowledge her¬ 
self aware of it also, and Claudia replied quickly: 

“Mr. Rowe was right, of course; the services can¬ 
not be conducted too quietly. Has—has any one tele¬ 
phoned?” 

A swift remembrance had come of the solitary 
watcher on guard during the night hours and Annie 
replied as though to the thought. 

“Only Mr. Stephen. He just wanted to know how 


160 Dust to Dust 

you felt and if there was anything he could do, but 
not to disturb you.—There, that’s Mr. Rowe’s ring. 
He said for you to wait upstairs till he sent word to 
you.” 

The doorbell rang almost continuously during the 
moments that followed and the subdued stir which 
ensued penetrated even the seclusion of her room. 
Claudia had wandered once to the window but had 
drawn back hastily at sight of the gathering knot of 
people below, and the time seemed interminable be¬ 
fore at last Uncle Matt’s summons came. 

The heavy, dank odor of many flowers rose in a 
stifling wave to the very stair’s head and she fought 
back a physical qualm as she descended to meet the 
attorney. Could it be only three days since Uncle 
Matt had waited there to escort her to a far differ¬ 
ent ceremony? It seemed that years of soul-searching 
torture had passed over her head in that brief interim, 
and she greeted him with a little, wavering smile as he 
tucked her hand within his arm. 

“You feel better, Claudia—stronger?” he asked 
solicitously. “This will be the final effort, my dear; 
the final demand upon your self-control.” 

“I know, Uncle Matt; I am ready.” She darted a 
glance at the drawing-room door. “Who is here?” 

“Only a few of Hamersley’s associates and fellow 
club-members. They wished to attend and I thought 
it a gracious move, in the absence of relatives,” he 
replied in a quick undertone. “I will be at your side, 
of course, and unless you wish to approach the cas¬ 
ket—?” 


In Hallowed Ground 161 

Claudia shivered. 

“No, Uncle Matt! I am not insensible, not dead 
to all feeling! It is just that I—I do not want to see 
his face again.” 

He nodded in silent comprehension, but why did 
he look at her so curiously, with that odd intensity of 
gaze? The impression passed from her mind the next 
moment, however, for they had crossed the threshold 
of the drawing-room and she braced herself for the 
ordeal confronting her. There were familiar faces 
among the group of men who had risen at her en¬ 
trance and the minister, who stood waiting to begin 
the service, was the same dignitary of that ceremony 
three days before and yet she was scarcely conscious 
of their presence. Her gaze was fixed upon the cas¬ 
ket banked with flowers, but once more that sense of 
unreality pervaded her and she walked as though in 
a dream. It was all like a scene in which she, Claudia 
Langham, must play a part, but which held for her 
no poignant significance. 

The minister was speaking now but his subdued 
intoning of the solemn words seemed to come from 
far away and with an effort she forced her numbed 
brain to follow. 

“. . . he that believeth . . . yet shall he live, 
and whosoever liveth and believeth . . . shall never 
die.” 

So short a time had passed since she had repeated 
after that same rich, mellow voice her promise “Till 
death us do part.” It was strange how the words of 
that other service should return now to mingle with 


162 


Dust to Dust 

this ritual of even greater solemnity! How soon 
that promise had become an empty thing, the words 
ashes in her mouth! Why had no premonition come 
to her with that exhortation at the beginning of the 
ceremony: “If any man can show just cause, why they 
may not lawfully be joined together, let him now 
speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace.” 

There in the body of the church had sat the man 
with knowledge of a cause, moral if not legal, which 
made of that marriage an unholy mockery and he had 
held his peace until too late! Why had no intuition 
warned her of the presence of that enemy who was 
so quickly to destroy her happiness? Yet had he not 
really been an instrument of the fate which seemed 
to be watching over her? With this evil thing ready 
to rear its head from the past at any day, any hour, 
his warning of it had come in time to spare her the 
shame of being wife in anything but name to the man 
now lying dead before her. 

The minister’s voice seemed to have droned on in¬ 
terminably and now once more snatches of phrase were 
borne in upon her thoughts. 

. I am a stranger with thee and a sojourner; 
as all my fathers were. 

“Oh, spare me a little, that I may recover my 
strength. . . 

She would be strong! The memory of her father 
and those who had gone before her had upheld her 
through all the horror of the past tragic days, the 
sacred duty to the traditions of her family and the 
spotlessness of their name had been ever before her 


In Hallowed Ground 163 

and so far she had not failed! The end was near; 
she would find strength to go on! 

As the service continued Claudia still sat motion¬ 
less with bowed head and her tearless eyes veiled. Be¬ 
side her, Matthew Rowe cleared his throat in subdued 
fashion and now and then a slight stir of movement 
came, as one or another of those who had counted 
themselves Niles Hamersley’s friends shifted his po¬ 
sition. But over all that measured intoning went on. 

. . earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to 
dust. . . 

The words pierced her consciousness with a swift, 
terrible reminder and a shudder swept her slender 
frame. Dust! The man who had wronged her by 
placing upon her the stigma of his own clouded name 
was mere dust now, like that other dust which had 
risen with his fall to settle again upon him as he lay 
below! 

Would that hideous scene ever fade from her mem¬ 
ory? A little, faint sound between a sigh and a moan 
came to her ears; could it be that she herself had ut¬ 
tered it? Where was her strength now? 

Claudia caught her lip between her teeth and her 
eyelids fluttered as she suppressed the impulse to 
glance up and meet Uncle Matt’s gaze. It was upon 
her, she knew, she could feel it, but it was not wholly 
in anxious solicitude; she was conscious again of that 
dispassionate, almost alien curiosity which prompted 
him, even without meeting his eyes. What could be 
the question in his mind about her? Was he amazed 
at the rein she had been able to keep over her emo- 


164 


Dust to Dust 

tions, at the self-control she had displayed? Surely 
he might have expected it of one of her blood! He 
should rather have been astonished had she failed when 
the test came, suddenly and dreadfully as it had con¬ 
fronted her. Yet why else was he studying her so 
closely that not even that little shudder and gasp of 
remembered horror had escaped him? It was a re¬ 
turn of that incomprehensible attitude of yesterday 
and she found it vaguely disturbing. 

The service drew to a close at last with a final 
prayer, and as Claudia rose and placed her hand on 
Matthew Rowe’s arm the clergyman approached. She 
listened to his words gravely, with a stony, dazed ex¬ 
pression in the eyes she raised to his, which seemed 
to denote a depth of grief beyond tears, and her low 
tone when she murmured a response quivered without 
her conscious volition. 

She did not know what reply she had made, nor 
realize that he had left her to give place to several 
of the older men who had come to do honor to Niles 
Hamersley’s memory. All of them had known her 
father, some of them had been accounted his friends 
and now as they clasped her hand in wordless sym¬ 
pathy before taking their leave she found herself 
actually fighting for composure. 

The service was over, that solemn intoning had 
ceased, and Claudia was all but overcome with the 
desire to get away! Anywhere, out of that room, 
where the vivid, clashing reds and purples of the 
banked flowers jarred upon her vision with almost 
physical pain and their mingled scents caught sicken- 


In Hallowed Ground 165 

ingly in her throat; away from the casket and that 
face which she must look upon again if she advanced 
a step or two nearer! 

He could not harm her now, he was the dust to 
which he would so soon return, but the very sight of 
his features, even though composed and aloof in death, 
would recall a host of memories that must be put from 
her forever if she were to regain the pride that was 
her birthright. His very presence in the house of her 
forefathers seemed a profanation, its nearness to her 
now a horror unspeakable. 

Blindly she turned to the door, her lingers uncon¬ 
sciously tightening on the attorney’s arm, and when 
they reached the hall she drew a deep, tremulous 
breath. 

“You were splendid, my dear; your manner was 
perfect!” Matthew Rowe spoke in low, reassuring 
tones. “Was it too great a strain, though? Do you 
feel equal to the trip to the cemetery? I must warn 
you that we will in all probability be trailed out by 
reporters and find more of them on hand when we 
reach Greenlawn, and although for that very reason 
your presence would be advisable I can represent you 
if you are too ill—?” 

Claudia shook her head. 

“I am not ill, Uncle Matt, and I must go, of course. 
Did you think I would hesitate at this last, public 
duty after enduring so much? The reporters, I sup¬ 
pose, are a necessary evil, and surely they won’t at¬ 
tempt to approach me?” 

“No. They will try to get snapshots, perhaps, but 


166 Dust to Dust 

you will have your veil. Wait in your room and I 
will send word up to you when everything is arranged 
to start.” 

Annie was waiting to adjust the incongruously chic 
little toque with its heavy, flowing folds of crepe and 
in its frame the girl’s small, colorless face looked singu¬ 
larly immature, almost childlike except for the suffer¬ 
ing that brooded in her deeply-shadowed eyes. 
Claudia gave one shrinking glance at the mirror and 
then turned away; Niles Hamersley had brought even 
this upon her, that she must make a mockery of the 
conventional manifestation of mourning! He was 
gone, but for many days she must masquerade in this 
profane travesty of grief. In so far he could still 
reach out from the grave and assert his claim upon 
her. 

But was that all? Might there not be still some 
way in which, although dead, he could prove a men¬ 
ace to the future? A sudden qualm, almost premoni¬ 
tory in its unheralded coming, struck deep into her 
spirit. The man Zorn had found his sordid mer¬ 
chandise unsaleable to her; if, then, he was no longer 
a factor to be reckoned with and the cloud from the 
past disappeared wholly from her horizon could fur¬ 
ther suffering come, in some form as yet undreamed-of, 
from her brief, tragically ended infatuation? 

But this was morbid, absurd! Were her nerves 
getting the better of her now when the worst was 
over? Claudia lifted her head defiantly beneath its 
burden of crepe. What power had Niles Hamersley 
to injure her now? 


In Hallowed Ground 167 

As though in reassuring answer to her thought, the 
subdued, heavy tramp of feet walking in measured 
unison reached her from the floor below and she heard 
them pass out of the front door. Her heart missed 
a beat and then raced on as if a restricting band had 
been loosened from it, for that slow march meant 
only one thing; that dreaded presence had been re¬ 
moved from her house and never could its shadow 
loom again upon the threshold. 

Matthew Rowe sent for her almost at once and 
she drew her veil as a screening mantle before her face 
while they descended to the waiting car. In spite of 
the assiduity of several plainclothes men, cameras were 
leveled at her from every discreet point of vantage, 
and, as the attorney had predicted, more than one ma¬ 
chine trailed after theirs when they set forth. 

The hot noon sun beat down relentlessly upon the 
closed car as it proceeded at a snail’s pace behind the 
sable-draped vehicle leading the way, and Matthew 
Rowe frankly mopped his forehead, panting in the 
oven-like atmosphere, but Claudia was scarcely con¬ 
scious of it. Slim and white and motionless she sat 
beside him, immune to any mere physical impression 
in the lethargy which had stolen once more over her 
spirit. Just to endure passively until this hour was 
done! Not to think, to feel, but to move mechanically 
through this last phase of her task and then to relax, 
forget! 

Her companion ventured a tentative remark or 
two but he met with slight response, and a silence 
lapsed between them until they entered the great gates 


168 Dust to Dust 

of the cemetery and followed a winding drive to the 
waiting grave, a little apart from the others in the 
Langham enclosure. The first glimpse of it roused 
Claudia with a little shock from her apathy; the man 
who had brought a hidden shame and disgrace upon 
her must intrude even in this hallowed domain, his 
dust would in the fullness of time mingle with that of 
her beloved and honored dead! 

It was fitting and proper, of course, in the eyes of 
the world, that this place should be accorded to her 
husband, but abhorrent that dissimulation must enter 
even here! She was not aware that her change of ex¬ 
pression had been noted by Uncle Matt until his hand 
touched her arm in mute caution and she hastily drew 
down her veil once more as they alighted. 

Several individuals loitered about in the vicinity, 
seemingly absorbed in contemplation of the adjacent 
monuments but none ventured to draw near, and in an 
incredibly short space of time the last act of that 
morning’s drama was over. 

With bowed head Claudia stood beside the attor¬ 
ney, his arm cradling hers with every evidence of pa¬ 
ternal consolation, but all feeling seemed dead within 
her as she watched the casket lowered into the grave 
and heard the earth fall upon it in dull thumps. It was 
only when from each spadeful a faint puff of dust arose 
like a sighing breath to hang motionless upon the still 
air and slowly disappear that she quivered in a re¬ 
turn of the horror that had overwhelmed her at the 
moment of tragedy, but soon the mound was heaped 
with flowers. It was the end. 


In Hallowed Ground 169 

Could she pray for him? The impulse came but 
her own spirit was too far from the humility of prayer, 
and after standing for a moment longer in silent con¬ 
templation of the grave she permitted Uncle Matt to 
lead her back to her car. 

The homeward drive seemed far shorter, for John 
tactfully accelerated their speed, and both she and her 
companion were sensible of a reaction from the tension 
that had held them on the outward way. 

“Don’t let the reporters annoy you, Claudia; I’ll 
give out any necessary statements to the press, and 
mere acquaintances won’t begin to call for some little 
time yet.” Matthew Rowe took off his hat and ran 
his fingers through his shock of iron-gray hair. “You 
needn’t see them when they do, of course, but it won’t 
be wise to remain in seclusion too long.” 

“Why not?” Claudia asked, the little edge to her 
tone betraying unguarded nerves. “I denied myself to 
society in general for more than a year after father 
died—” 

“And there were whispers about your—eccentric¬ 
ity,” the attorney interrupted, to end his sentence with 
an odd hesitation. 

Claudia shrugged. 

“Does that matter?” There was an unconscious 
note of hauteur in her tone. “Surely my life is my 
own, now! Must I consider the idle whispering of a 
society which will grovel for invitations when I throw 
open my doors again?” 

“You’ve considered nothing else for the past three 
days!” Matthew Rowe spoke with sudden asperity. 


170 Dust to Dust 

“Your life is not yours, alone; it belongs to society 
as well, whether you are Claudia Langham or Judy 
O’Grady! Niles Hamersley’s death has created a 
sensation, remember; it will die down but it won’t be 
forgotten. If you deny yourself to society too long, 
whispers will be rife that perhaps you are not actuated 
alone by grief over your bereavement; that after all 
there was something more in his desertion of you 
before the church than you admitted, something more 
in that last interview between you two than has ever 
been known to the world. Forgive me for speaking 
plainly, my dear, but you must realize that the end 
is not yet.” 

“I shall do everything that convention demands of 
me as—as the widow of Niles Hamersley,” Claudia 
responded coldly. “Beyond that I refuse to allow this 
hideous affair to affect the future!” 

The attorney shook his head slowly but he made 
no reply and there was silence between them until they 
reached the house once more. There Claudia left 
him in the library, while she went to her room to re¬ 
move her hat and veil, and when she descended he 
was standing by a seldom-used bookcase in a corner, 
absorbed in the pages of an old volume which he had 
taken from the top shelf. 

He gave a slight start on seeing her, for her soft 
footfalls had made no sound on the deep pile of the 
rugs. Replacing the book, he advanced, dusting his 
hands lightly. 

“You will lunch with me, Uncle Matt?” Claudia 
asked. 


In Hallowed Ground 171 

“Thanks, no, my dear. I have a number of things 
to see to, and you should rest. If anything occurs 
that you want to consult me about call me up at my 
rooms without delay; my man will know where you 
can reach me at every hour.” He paused and then 
went on with deepened gravity: “Remember, Claudia, 
to let me hear from you without fail if you should be 
annoyed in any way.” 

Should she tell him about Zorn? But, no. She had 
closed that episode, or would if the man telephoned 
on the following evening, and Uncle Matt would look 
upon his attempt at blackmail as only another reason 
to be subservient to public opinion! 

“I will call on you, of course, if I need you.” She 
gave him her hand. “You have been my mainstay 
through all this dreadful time, Uncle Matt, and no 
father could have done more! I can never repay your 
wonderful kindness and thoughtfulness!” 

“You can by heeding my counsel now, Claudia!” he 
responded. “Don’t underestimate the intelligence of 
others; that’s the big mistake made by those with 
something to conceal. The danger—of scandal—has 
not been stamped out; it is still smoldering and the 
least breath of gossip will fan it into flame. I am 
not an alarmist but I cannot caution you too earnestly 
to be on your guard!” 

He was gone, and Claudia paced the floor in puz¬ 
zled thought. What could Uncle Matt have meant? 
From the moment when he came to her after exam¬ 
ining Niles Hamersley’s body there had been some¬ 
thing in his manner strangely at variance with his 


172 


Dust to Dust 

usual frank, wholehearted cordiality; something watch¬ 
ful and repressed, almost suspicious, as though he 
doubted her word. 

It had been there when he first questioned her about 
the revolver and then coached her in the account she 
must give of her husband’s last hours. It had seemed 
intensified during the interviews with the official Dawes. 
She remembered, too, how he had studied her as if 
waiting to catch her in some look or word that would 
tell him more than she had divulged. 

What could he imagine she was concealing from 
him? Why had he cautioned her with such desper¬ 
ate earnestness to be on her guard? Did he fear fur¬ 
ther trouble from the man Zorn. . . . 

Claudia stopped suddenly, swaying, and caught at a 
chairback for support as a horror greater than any 
she had known surged over her. He believed she had 
shot Niles Hamersley! The thought of Zorn had re¬ 
called his accusation and the warning that he was only 
putting into words what others might be thinking. 
Uncle Matt was one of those others, he believed her 
to be a murderess, yet loyally he had come to her res¬ 
cue, concocting a story to hoodwink the authorities and 
strengthening the circumstantial evidence of it by him¬ 
self placing the cartridges and cleaning cloth where 
they would appear to corroborate it. 

Dull hammers seemed beating in her ears and she 
felt herself choking, fighting for breath, as though 
struggling to throw off some invisible and terrible 
enemy, but her brain, awake now to the enormity of 
the attorney’s suspicion, raced back over every mo- 


In Hallowed Ground 173 

ment she had spent in his presence since the tragedy 
and found only confirmation in his attitude. 

Even to-day he had cautioned her not to give occa¬ 
sion for whispers that there was “something more in 
that last interview than had ever been known to the 
world.” He had spoken, too, of comment on her past 
“eccentricity.” Did he mean that people had ques¬ 
tioned her sanity? He had known her all her life, 
and surely he could believe her capable of murder only 
in a moment of madness! Was that indeed his con¬ 
clusion, and why, in spite of his rigid code, he had 
created false evidence in order to shield her? 

Claudia had halted before the old bookcase in which 
he had with such covert haste replaced the volume he 
was consulting at her entrance. It contained only old 
treatises on various semi-scientific subjects which had 
interested her father from time to time and she had 
never examined them, but now on a sudden impulse she 
reached up to the top shelf for the volume that had 
engaged Matthew Rowe’s attention. It was entitled: 
“Primal Manifestations of Mental Disorder.” 

Steadying her reeling senses under this fresh shock 
she examined it mechanically, then glanced in haste 
at the other volumes on the shelf. The one she held 
in her hand was the only one touching on insanity in 
any phase and—it was the only one free from dust! 
The backs of the others had been scrupulously cleaned, 
but in the long years they had remained undisturbed a 
delicate film had accumulated on their tops. 

Uncle Matt had made quick use of the few minutes 
she had spent upstairs! Claudia could see him taking 


174 


Dust to Dust 

down that book, blowing away the crumbled particles 
gathered upon it by time and decay and hurriedly 
turning the pages for some reference he remembered, 
some reference in connection with his dreadful sus¬ 
picion of her! Her father had never mentioned an in¬ 
terest in mental disorders and the very presence of 
this book in the house was a surprise to her, but all 
other thought was lost before the hideous fact con¬ 
fronting her. Uncle Matt believed that she was mad, 
and in madness had taken the life of her husband! 


CHAPTER XII 

THE LAW SPEAKS 

T HE night and most of the following day passed 
in a daze of harrowing thought bordering on 
frenzy, as Claudia recalled again and again 
every detail of the tragedy she had hoped to put for¬ 
ever from her mind, seeking to discover the initial 
reason for Matthew Rowe’s terrible misconception. 

Knowing her pride of birth and high ideals, he 
might perhaps imagine that in her horror and loath¬ 
ing at finding herself tied to a man under a cloud of 
past iniquity and in fear of violence at his hands, she 
had threatened him with a revolver. It was possible 
Uncle Matt had deduced a struggle for its possession, 
in the course of which the fatal accident could have 
occurred, and the collapse of the floor was not in¬ 
conceivable as a fortuitous coincidence, but that he 
could believe her deliberately to have fired that shot 
at the instigation of an unsound mind seemed in itself 
beyond the bounds,of reason! 

Plow glad she was now that she had not told him 
about Zorn! He would only have been strengthened 
in his dreadful theory by learning of the blackmailer’s 
accusation and without any doubt he would have in¬ 
sisted upon some compromise. More than ever, she 
was determined that there should be no traffic with 
this creature; to lower herself by dealing with him 
175 


176 Dust to Dust 

would be an acknowledgment that others might have 
drawn the same conclusion he pretended to have done 
regarding that final scene in the attic, even without 
the added suspicion Uncle Matt entertained. If 
Zorn carried out his declared intention of attempting 
to communicate with her once more, he must be met 
with the contempt and defiance his overture merited. 

The approach of evening found Claudia more calm 
and with a fatalistic philosophy born of the shock and 
suffering of the past few days she forced herself to 
accept the fact of Uncle Matt’s suspicion with hope¬ 
less resignation. She could not disprove it and even 
when later he realized, as he must, her absolute 
sanity, that lingering question of her possible guilt 
would remain. That her father’s closest friend, and 
the one above all others to whom she had looked for 
protection and sympathetic counsel, should think this 
unspeakable thing of her was the worst blow she 
could have encountered now, but it was only one more 
bitter disillusionment, an added cross to bear. She 
must stand alone before all the world! 

Annie hovered about her in anxious concern at this 
new mood until, with nerves at the breaking point, she 
drove the faithful old woman from her. It seemed 
that George, too, was watching her surreptitiously as 
she wandered about the house, his wrinkled face 
graven with deeper lines of worry and distress. His 
voice was more tremulous than ever when he an¬ 
nounced dinner, and as he served her with the food 
she could scarcely touch, his palsied hands could only 


The Law Speaks 177 

fumble with the dishes and his faded eyes were con¬ 
stantly upon her. 

Could it be that he and even Annie secrefcly shared 
Uncle Matt’s suspicion? Could they fear, not only 
that she had shot her husband but that the act had 
been committed in a fit of insanity? Were they 
watching her, pitying her, waiting for further evi¬ 
dence of a mind distraught? 

But such thoughts could only lead to madness in¬ 
deed, and Claudia put them sternly from her. The 
old servants were merely solicitous, and she must not 
let Uncle Matt’s opinion prey upon her, robbing her 
of mental poise and strength. He must come to see 
his mistake and in time even to realize that the im¬ 
pulse to murder Niles Hamersley could never have 
entered her heart. 

If any one deserved death, it was Zorn! What¬ 
ever the man she had married was guilty of in the 
past it could be no lower or more vile than this crea¬ 
ture’s blackmail and then betrayal of him to her in 
the effort to extort further tribute for his silence. 
Such a being was not fit to live, he should be exter¬ 
minated, wiped out of existence like any other vermin! 
She herself would be justified in insuring his harm¬ 
lessness to injure her in a swifter, more certain fash¬ 
ion than by the payment of hush-money which would 
only pave the way for further demands! In her 
heart she had suffered poignant shame and degra¬ 
dation because of another’s fault, but if there were 
danger of public obloquy being heaped upon her inno- 


178 


Dust to Dust 

cent head she would have every right to kill this man 
with her own hands! 

His leering smile appeared again before her, his 
insolent guttural voice sounded in her ears and that 
sense of something unclean and noisome which she had 
felt in his presence returned to her with almost 
physical force. If he stood before her in the flesh, 
she could strike him down with no more compunction 
than she would feel in crushing a poisonous snake 
coiled to spring! Her body tensed with the thought, 
quivering as though held in leash, and a hot wave of 
red like a film of blood rose in front of her eyes, 
blinding her to everything but the vision of Zorn, 
weltering at her feet, silenced forever! 

The next moment she relaxed and dropped limply 
into a chair, cold and shivering in the reaction from 
her sudden fury. Could she really be going mad? 
Had the suggestion engendered by the knowledge of 
^pcle Matt’s suspicion already like a subtle poison 
begun to affect her overwrought brain? Zorn could 
not harm her, he would not dare for his own sake to 
come forward with any tale of the past if he shared 
a guilty knowledge with her husband, and an unsub¬ 
stantiated accusation of her from such a source would 
only result in his being placed under restraint as a 
dangerous crank. He was beneath contempt, his 
puerile threats not worthy of a second’s disquietude! 

The ’phone shrilled just as this reflection calmed her 
turbulent spirit and when George appeared she rose 
quietly. 

“It’s that man again, Miss Claudia; that Zorn, 


The Law Speaks 179 

who you said was a crank!” George’s tone was thin 
and high with indignation. “Quite impudent, he is, 
and certain you’ll talk to him. If you will let me send 
him to Mr. Rowe, he wouldn’t dare trouble you 
again!” 

“No. I rather thought that he might telephone, 
you know, George, and I will speak to him. He only 
needs to be told once and for all that I won’t consider 
financing his scheme.” 

She picked up the receiver with a steady hand and 
Zorn’s voice, a trifle more blustering, less assured, 
came to her over the wire. 

“Mrs. Hamersley? Have you had time to think 
over our little talk? If you want to do business with 
me I’m giving you this last chance!” 

“I have no business whatever to transact with you, 
Mr. Zorn!” Aware that the butler must be listening, 
Claudia chose her words with care, but the cold final¬ 
ity of her tone was unmistakable. “My decision 
has not altered since I dismissed you and I shall not 
for a moment consider your proposition; take it 
wherever you will! It is useless for you to annoy 
me concerning it again!” 

The man at the other end of the line gave a short, 
ugly laugh which grated harshly upon her ears. 

“So that’s your last word, Mrs. Hamersley? Well, 
I’ll have something to add to it, but not to you! 
Yoli’ve passed up your chance, now look out for the 
consequences!” 

The brief speech was more shockingly repellent 
than a string of oaths would have been and, when a 


180 Dust to Dust 

vicious click told that he had rung oh, Claudia hung 
up her own receiver with a little shiver of nervous 
dread. Had she, after all, reason to fear this man? 
He could not go to the press, for no paper would 
print a libelous story about Niles Hamersley’s past, 
and it would avail him nothing to approach the 
authorities with his wild theory of murder, even if 
he dared. He was furious, of course, that he could 
not intimidate her, and his scheme of extortion had 
failed; that insolent, empty threat was nothing more 
than retaliation for his disappointment and chagrin, 
and he would trouble her no more. 

But Uncle Matt’s cruel misjudgment of her was a 
very real trouble and sorrow, and long after she had 
retired and the house was still Claudia lay with wide, 
miserable eyes staring into the darkness. His dry, 
legal mind weighed only the circumstantial evidence 
and the various conclusions which might be drawn 
from it, that was plain; he had put the personal ele¬ 
ment aside and, in his stern effort to be dispassionate, 
he had received her confidence about what had 
actually taken place between her and Niles Hamersley 
in that last, dreadful hour with doubt already im¬ 
planted in his mind. 

His discovery of the wound made by that stray 
shot and the finding of her father’s old revolver be¬ 
side the body, together with her admission that it had 
been in her hands a moment before her husband fell, 
even though she declared in all truth that she had 
meant to turn it only against herself, must have made 
him leap to his horrible, mistaken conclusion, but it 


The Law Speaks 181 

could not account for his doubt of her sanity! How 
could such an idea have entered his thoughts? 

With the question still repeating itself in her tired 
brain, she fell asleep at last, but strange, distorted 
dreams came to her and she awakened weary and un¬ 
refreshed. 

“Mr. Rowe telephoned, Miss Claudia,” Annie an¬ 
nounced as she placed the breakfast tray on the 
stand. “He told George to say that he would be 
here in an hour, though why he hasn’t sense enough 
to let you rest now that it’s all over—!” 

She finished with a shake of her head and Claudia 
remarked quickly: 

“He probably wants to see me about something 
connected with settling up the estate, Annie. When 
that is finished, you and I will go away quietly some¬ 
where for a while, where no one can bother us.” 

“I’m sure I hope so!” The old woman’s tone was 
dubious, nevertheless. “You’ll have no chance here 
at home to ease your mind and forget, and you will 
never be yourself again, dearie, until you do!” 

She would never be herself again! That was only 
Annie’s way of expressing her fear that her young 
mistress was physically ill, of course, but it gave 
Claudia an unpleasant shock. She recalled all at 
once how Annie had caught her by the shoulders and 
questioned her sharply when she first mentioned the 
revolver, in faltering out her story of what had taken 
place in the attic, and had been on the point of going 
to search for it in the vain hope that it had flown out 
of Hamersley’s hand as he fell when George’s appear- 


182 Dust to Dust 

ance at the door stopped her. She had said that no 
one must know about it, even before it was discovered 
that a shot had been discharged from it! Did she, 
too, doubt Claudia’s story that her impulse had been 
to kill herself, never her husband? 

But there was no time now for speculation on that 
score, for she must dress to receive Uncle Matt. 
Knowing the thought in his mind about her, she felt 
reluctant to meet him, dreading his familiar presence 
as though he were some stranger coming to study her 
—and judge her! What could be bringing him to her 
now? The supposition she had vouchsafed to Annie 
was a mere subterfuge, for there could be no attempt 
to wind up Hamersley’s affairs for many weeks to 
come. Could Zorn have gone to him, or had he 
in some other manner gained an inkling of the nature 
of the cloud which shrouded her husband’s past in 
unsavory mystery? 

Claudia was still deep in troubled conjecture when 
George announced the attorney. She descended, to 
find him waiting in the library in ill-concealed im¬ 
patience. He seemed to be laboring under some 
strong excitement and his usually impassive counte¬ 
nance wore a curiously shocked expression. 

“Claudia, my dear!” He wrung her hands and 
then motioned her peremptorily to a chair. “I would 
not have disturbed you, to say nothing of referring 
to an incident you are trying to forget, but I have 
learned certain things which make it vitally necessary. 
I want you to describe that man to me again in every 
detail as accurately as you can recall him; the man 


The Law Speaks 183 

who followed you from the church at your wedding 
and intercepted Hamersley at the door.” 

“Why?” Claudia faltered the monosyllable with 
a sudden sinking of her heart. 

“Because he’s got to be found! I don’t want to 
alarm you, but we must locate that man without delay 
and find out what he knew.” The attorney was pac¬ 
ing up and down before her as though physical action 
were a necessity in his perturbation. “I told you be¬ 
fore that it was imperative for us to get hold of him 
and learn what we might have to cope with, and we 
cannot afford to lose any time now. Tell me again 
just what he looked like.” 

Claudia hesitated. What could Uncle Matt have 
learned that made it necessary, after all, to deal in 
some fashion with Zorn? She had been wrong, of 
course, in concealing his attempt at blackmail, for she 
had promised to place herself unreservedly in Uncle 
Matt’s hands, and no matter what his private opinion 
of her mental state, or suspicions concerning that re¬ 
volver shot, he had from the first moment bent every 
thought, every energy, toward her protection. Was 
it too late now to confess her reticence? Perhaps he 
would think it further evidence of a warped cunning 
on her part, the sly working of an unbalanced brain! 

“Uncle Matt?” She moistened her lips nervously. 
“Do you know why the man appeared just at that 
time? Have you thought what his motive must have 
been?” 

Rowe made a gesture of impatience. 

“Of course! That was a foregone conclusion; 


184 Dust■ to Dust 

blackmail! He came to extort money, possibly to 
sell some letters or documents of a compromising 
nature, if it was he or an accomplice who broke into 
the house Thursday night in the belief that Hamers- 
ley’s body still lay where it had fallen.” 

“It was he—Zorn!” Claudia exclaimed, casting 
further irresolution aside. “I knew it when he came 
again the next day, for there were traces of dust from 
the jar I had flung at him still clinging to his coat!” 

“His name is Zorn—he came again!” the attorney 
repeated slowly. “Great Lord, Claudia, do you mean 
to say that fellow has approached you, and you never 
told me?” 

“I sent him away!” She clasped her hands con¬ 
vulsively. “I refused to listen to his insolent demand 
for money for his silence about my husband’s past; 
it seemed too unspeakably low and vile!” 

“Stuff and nonsense!” Rowe burst out in exas¬ 
peration. “It’s all very well to be high-principled, 
and plain common sense not to submit to blackmail if 
you can afford to face the result, but we can’t in this 
case! That man must be silenced at any price! I 
want to know when he came and every single word 
that passed between you.” 

Claudia told him, but when she came to Zorn’s 
accusation, her voice caught in her throat. 

“He knew—he had guessed—a great deal of what 
really did happen when Niles came to me, but he 
thought, or pretended to think, that something far 
more terrible than that accident was primarily re¬ 
sponsible for—for the end!” She would not, could 


The Law Speaks 185 

not, look at Uncle Matt, but she could feel his eyes 
upon her searchingly and it required all her self-con¬ 
trol to go on. “When he went away with him there 
in front of the church, Niles said I would hate him 
from that minute, that his—his expression had given 
him away to me, and Zorn knew he meant to try to 
force me to live with him as his wife, even if I de¬ 
manded that he leave me forever! When I refused 
to—to listen any further, Zorn accused me of having 
gone to the attic deliberately for the revolver, and— 
and of firing that shot myself when Niles followed 
me! He said the floor must have collapsed after¬ 
ward, and that the police would have surmised it all 
for themselves if they’d known I hated Niles and 
why!—Oh, Uncle Matt, I didn’t want even you to 
know that such a horrible thing had been said to me, 
even though the man knew it was a despicable lie! 
Can’t you understand? I just wanted to get rid of 
him and forget that such a loathsome creature 
existed!” 

“My God!” Rowe’s voice was low and the ex¬ 
clamation came with a gasp as he ran his fingers 
through his hair. “So that is his game! I suppose 
he threatened to go to the authorities and tell them 
what he knew of Hamersley’s past and the cause you 
had for hating him and wanting him out of your life! 
—And you thought you could meet him with open 
defiance and he’d slink away like a whipped cur with¬ 
out trying to get back at you!” 

“But what can he do?” demanded Claudia. “He 
practically admitted that he was a party to what 


186 Dust to Dust 

Niles had done! You can’t mean that he would actu¬ 
ally take his story to the police, and that if he did 
they would listen!” 

“I mean that he undoubtedly will do so if we don’t 
find him and buy him off first, and not only will they 
listen, but they may take a step now that I know 
hung in the balance last week, and that would crush 
you utterly!” 

“What do you mean!” The low cry was wrung 
from her in sudden horror. “What have I to fear 
from the authorities? If the man Zorn must be 
bought off—” 

“He’ll have to be located first, and we can’t be 
squeamish as to the way we go about it. We must 
use every means at our command, and thank God if 
it isn’t too late! You’ve been willfully, insanely blind 
to the danger of your position, Claudia, and it won’t 
do you any good to hide your head in the sand now!” 
Rowe turned to the door. “I’ve got to start the 
search for Zorn without a minute’s delay, but if he 
isn’t found before—” 

A quick, firm ring at the door broke in upon his 
sentence, and as he turned to her again, Claudia saw 
the sudden sweat start upon his forehead. She gazed 
at him imploringly, but he shook his head for silence, 
and in another moment they heard George open the 
door and then the voice of Dawes came to their ears. 

Rowe’s hands clenched and his shoulders rose and 
fell in a deep breath of hopelessness, but Claudia 
rose slowly and stood facing the door. The strange, 
fatalistic calm which had come to her before in mo- 


The Law Speaks 187 

merits of stress since the tragedy settled upon her 
once more, and although every drop of blood seemed 
draining from her heart, leaving a deathly chill be¬ 
hind, she waited quietly. 

The suspense was soon over, for after a quick word 
to George, whose voice had been raised in seeming 
expostulation, the man from headquarters made his 
appearance in the doorway. 

A swift pregnant glance passed between him and 
the attorney, and then Matthew Rowe stepped to his 
client’s side as Dawes advanced. 

“Mrs. Hamersley, I’ll have to ask you to come with 
me. I have a warrant here for your arrest.” 

The floor rocked beneath Claudia’s feet and the 
room seemed all at once to have grown dark, but with 
a supreme effort of will, she gripped her failing 
senses. Under arrest? She, Claudia Langham? 

Matthew Rowe cleared his throat. 

“On what charge, Inspector Dawes?” 

“. . . the murder of Niles Hamersley.” 


CHAPTER XIII 


WITH CLEAR VISION 

A SMALL, hideously bare room, whose naked 
walls seemed ever to be closing in upon her; 
slow, maddeningly precise steps in the corridor 
outside, low, sickly beams of light through the grated 
door and the muffled echoes of a raucous curse and 
high-pitched, sobbing cry. 

The Tombs! She was in prison! Claudia could 
scarcely bring herself to face the reality even yet, to 
believe that she was actually here! The voice of the 
Law had dared to address her, the hand of the Law 
had dared to reach out and touch her, seize her in its 
grasp! That she was innocent seemed of secondary 
importance for the moment; that they had ventured 
to invade her home, where for generations the Lang- 
hams had lived in all respect and honor, indict her for 
a crime of the most shocking, heinous nature and 
drag her to a cell like some vicious, depraved creature 
of the slums was a fact that it seemed impossible to 
acknowledge to herself. 

In the daylight the sheer horror of her position, 
the stark physical truth that she was imprisoned be¬ 
hind bolts and bars, did not strike her with full force, 
but when the world outside darkened, a sort of pamc 
seized her and it took all her strength of will to fight 
it down. 


188 


With Clear Vision 189 

What of those who, innocent or guilty, had many 
such hours to remember and anticipate; the convicted, 
with months, years made up of such nights to con¬ 
template—the condemned, who must on some not far 
distant dawn face the chair! Claudia did not realize 
that it was the first personal thought she had ever 
given to those whose lives had not in some fashion 
touched her own, the first time she had ever tried to 
put herself in the place of others who had descended 
into greater depths than she could fathom. She only 
knew that something stirred in her heart which she 
had never known before and with it there came a 
gradual relaxation, a loosening of the tension that 
bound her, heart and soul and body. 

On one visitors’ day the guard came to tell her that 
Stephen was waiting in the counsel room to see her. 
Stephen! He had come to her even here! No false 
pride held her back from her childhood playmate; 
somehow she knew that no disgrace clung to her in 
his eyes because of her incarceration here, and she 
went with quickened heartbeat to meet him. 

“Claudia!” His tone was low and he paused for 
a moment as though not trusting his voice. “I—I am 
glad to see you looking so well. I should have come 
before, but I knew that you would be busily engaged 
with Mr. Rowe.” 

Not a word of commiseration or sympathy, the very 
utterance of which would have put an insurmountable 
barrier between them! Good old Stephen, how well 
he knew her! What a comfort he was! 

“We were speaking of you only this morning.” 


190 


Dust to Dust 

Unconsciously, as if she were in her own home once 
more, Claudia motioned toward a chair as she seated 
herself and he drew one close to her side. “Uncle 
Matt said that you had been to see him and I told 
him I had taken you into my confidence.” 

“You did?” he asked quickly. “That’s good! I 
didn’t mention it to him, of course, but now I can go 
to him without reserve—if I have your permis¬ 
sion?” 

She nodded. 

“Mr. Rowe is engaging additional counsel—did he 
tell you?—and I suppose there will be endless confer¬ 
ences during the next few days. He is retaining the 
famous criminal lawyer, Mr. Quincey Dreyer.” 

“The very best man he could get,” Stephen com¬ 
mented. “Claudia, if you would rather I didn’t inter¬ 
fere, please tell me so frankly, but there’s something 
I would like very much to say to you.” 

“I suppose Uncle Matt might think anything you 
or I would suggest would be useless,” she replied 
candidly. “I don’t feel that way, Stephen, although 
I am quite content, of course, to leave everything in 
his hands. Please tell me!” 

“You remember our talk at your home?” His tone 
was so low that Claudia was forced to bend slightly 
toward him in order to catch the words. “There is 
one person who should be found and interviewed 
without delay; I have been suggesting it to Mr. Rowe, 
but he only shrugs.” 

Claudia smiled as she replied: 

“That was because he is already moving heaven 


With Clear Vision 191 

and earth to get in touch with him, if you are refer¬ 
ring to that man who brought a message to the church. 
He came to me again after I saw you—it was he who 
called and left so mysteriously on the day before, and 
appeared again during the night—but I refused to 
listen to him.” 

In a few guarded words she told of the black¬ 
mailer’s proposition. Stephen betrayed no surprise, 
but his lips compressed themselves tightly and a 
sterner look came into his eyes. 

“Of course you would take that attitude, Claudia; 
anything else would have been utterly foreign to you 
and you could not be expected to see the matter from 
a hard, practical standpoint like Mr. Rowe’s,” he re¬ 
marked. “The fellow is probably holding off now 
for a propitious moment to approach your counsel, 
and the wiser he is the longer he will wait so as to 
increase the suspense and incidentally raise his price, 
provided he thinks himself secure from the authori¬ 
ties. If he hasn’t carried out his threat to go to 
them yet, you may be sure they are as anxious as Mr. 
Rowe to locate him as an important witness. Have 
I your permission to find him if I can, and deal with 
him in my own way?” 

“But how can you succeed when the—the people 
Uncle Matt has employed have failed?” Claudia 
asked. 

Stephen flushed. 

“Perhaps I have a slight advantage over them. 
Don’t question me any further!” he added hastily. 
“Just have faith in me, Claudia! I know it sounds 


192 


Dust to Dust 

over-confident, but I feel as sure that I may be able 
to help as I am that ultimate justice will come!” 

“I do believe in you!” she exclaimed impulsively. 

“I know how loyal you are, and I have reason to 
remember that sometimes you see more clearly than 
I, and with a prescience that is almost clairvoyant. 
But your great work must not suffer, Stephen; that 
prize group for the courthouse! You mustn’t neglect 
it for my trouble, through quixotic friendship for me! 

I should never forgive myself if you failed to put the 
best that is in you in this splendid opportunity!” 

“I shall not fail I—In that either, because you wish 
it!” His voice was husky and still more low. “I 
won’t try to see you again until I have some news for 
you, but even if I do not come until the eleventh hour, 
promise that you won’t lose faith in me!” 

“I promise, Stephen.” She gave him her hand and 
he clasped it earnestly in covenant. “How could I, 
when you have so loyally kept faith with me! I am 
beginning to see what friendship can mean and I am 
glad you have taught me! I shall wait with sure 
belief until you come again.” 

Thereafter for a space the days passed without 
event, each one dragging wearily to its close and each 
dawn bringing the need of fresh courage and fortitude. 

At first Claudia counted them feverishly with a fierce 
inner rebellion against the slow, immutable march of 
the hours, but later the monotony of this strange, new 
existence caught her in its relentless grip and she came 
to accept the creeping passage of time with an apa- f 
thetic indifference. 


With Clear Vision 193 

One hot morning, however, when Claudia, parched 
and drooping from the close, sweltering atmosphere 
of her cell, was summoned into the presence of her 
counsel, it was to find Uncle Matt standing aside with 
an anxiously perturbed countenance while Quincey 
Dreyer, his associate, presented a third man to her. 

“Mr. Underton has been associated with me on 
former cases, Mrs. Hamersley,” he explained. “Mr. 
Rowe and I have consulted him now in an advisory 
capacity on a certain point at issue and it won’t be 
necessary to go over the whole story with him; just 
tell him what happened after you and your husband 
went to the attic, exactly as you told it to the medical 
examiner.” 

He had not raised his voice nor emphasized a word 
of the final phrase and yet it struck home to Claudia’s 
consciousness with as great compelling force as though 
he had suddenly shouted in her ear. She had seen this 
dry, cynically humorous little man only twice since 
she told Stephen he was to be Matthew Rowe’s asso¬ 
ciate on her case, and now she eyed him in growing 
wonder. How had he succeeded in conveying more 
to her without seeming effort than the most lengthy 
explanation and warning could have done? Was this 
the secret of his power to impress and sway a court¬ 
room? 

The stranger, Mr. Underton, was elderly and ro¬ 
tund, and he blinked at her near-sightedly from behind 
thick-lensed horn-rimmed glasses as Claudia repeated 
the version of that final scene by which her case must 
stand or fall. His personality did not seem note- 


194 Dust to Dust 

worthy in any way and her thoughts were returning 
with still puzzled interest to Dreyer when the guard 
across the room rose hurriedly and went to the door. 
After a brief colloquy, she threw it open and a 
tremulous little old figure entered. 

Claudia got slowly out of her chair and stood as if 
turned to stone. Surely this could not be Annie, with 
grey hair whitened to snow! A strange young man 
stood behind her, but the girl had no eyes for him as 
the little figure rushed over and caught her in shaking 
arms. 

“Oh, Miss Claudia, my baby! My lamb!” The 
cry came straight from Annie’s bursting heart and 
Claudia quivered from head to foot. Then some¬ 
thing long pent-up within her seemed to give way and 
the first tears that she had known since the tragedy 
leaped to her eyes! With an answering cry she 
folded her old nurse close, forgetful of the onlookers. 

How she had missed Annie! Not the mere trivial 
acts of service, constant and unremitting as they had 
been, but the tender care and devotion, the wealth of 
love bestowed so loyally and unselfishly upon her and 
which she had taken, as she took all things in that 
old life, merely as her due! 

When she could control her emotion, she found that 
Uncle Matt and the rest had disappeared and she was 
alone with Annie and the guard. 

“But how was it that you came?” she asked when 
she had led the old woman to a chair. 

“It was Mr. Dreyer, dearie.” Annie wiped her 
eyes. “Mr. Rowe wouldn’t let me. He’s kept on 


With Clear Vision 195 

telling me that I—I wouldn’t be allowed, but Mr. 
Dreyer called up this morning and said I’d be let see 
you for just a minute if I’d come now, with the young 
man he’d send for me.” 

“Who was the young man?” Claudia frowned, re¬ 
calling the strange figure in the doorway. 

“I don’t know, but very nice, I thought him,” 
Annie responded innocently. “So friendly and kind! 
—Oh, Miss Claudia, what have they done to you 
here? You look just like a—a ghost of yourself!” 

“I’m quite all right, Annie.” Her tone was absent. 
Why had Dreyer not asked her permission to arrange 
this meeting, or at least told her in advance of Annie’s 
coming? Had Uncle Matt known? “I didn’t want 
you to come to me for I knew it would distress you, 
and—and it won’t be long before I shall be at home 
again.” 

“It’s distressed me a lot more not knowing if your 
bath was fixed right and you could find your things for 
yourself and remember to keep your slippers handy 
at night! As soon as George could speak he asked 
if I’d seen you and whether your meals was being 
served proper or not!” 

“As soon as George could speak!” Uncle Matt 
had told her the old butler was broken down, but she 
had been too engrossed in her own misery to give it 
more than a passing thought. 

“How is George now?” she faltered. 

“Doing real well. He could move his arm after 
the first ten days, but the doctor didn’t know as he’d 
ever walk again till I found him one night sneaking 


196 


Dust to Dust 

down to see if I’d locked up safe, the old fraud!” 
Annie spoke with affectionate indulgence. “It was a 
stroke, you know. Oh, Miss Claudia, we can get 
some one to take care of him; won’t they let me stay 
here with you?” 

“Time’s up,” the guard interrupted, not unkindly. 

Claudia persuaded the old woman to leave and then 
returned to her cell. Her indignation at Dreyer’s 
unwarranted action cooled and with the new tender¬ 
ness which had sprung up in her heart she smiled on 
the guard as the door closed. 

Urged by the other matron who had charge of her 
in her cell, she had once or twice walked in the gallery 
during recreation hour, but the sight of those tiers of 
cells filled with human captives like wild animals had 
struck horror to her soul, and the other women pris¬ 
oners, who brushed past her staring and surly or mis¬ 
erably unseeing, turned her blood cold within her. 
That she should ever be brought in contact with such 
dreadful creatures, classed as one of them, forced to 
breathe the same air, had been the most terrible phase 
of this degradation and never, save once, had it oc¬ 
curred to her that they too, each in their fashion, were 
suffering the same agony as she. 

What was she, what had she ever been, or given, 
or accomplished that set her apart from these women 
about her? To be sure, she was innocent of the fear¬ 
ful crime with which she had been charged, but so 
might any of them be! They did not all look like 
derelicts, desperate creatures who had known no law! 
That little olive-skinned girl, for instance, with her 


With Clear Vision 197 

great dark eyes so full of fear and pain, who crept 
along the gallery like a hunted thing. She had 
glanced at Claudia with wondering appeal and once 
had hesitated as though about to speak. 

Now, with her emotions still stirred from that meet¬ 
ing with Annie, she felt a sudden, sick longing for 
human companionship, and when the afternoon recre¬ 
ation hour came she went, without protest, to the 
gallery. The little dark-eyed girl was there, leaning 
for a moment on the railing, and on a swift impulse, 
Claudia went up to her. 

“It’s dreadfully warm, isn’t it?” The inane re¬ 
mark was the first that occurred to her mind, and as 
the girl shrank shyly away she added with a smile: 
“You don’t mind my speaking? I’ve noticed you 
before and it’s lonely with nobody to talk to, don’t 
you think?” 

“Lonely, yes!” The girl caught her breath 
sharply as if half afraid of the sound of her own 
soft voice. “I—seen you, too. You an’ me, we are 
da only ones here now for da same t’ing.” 

“You and me . . . the same thing!” Was this 
timid little creature accused also of taking a life, that 
she appeared to consider it a sort of bond between 
them? 

“You know of my trouble then?” Claudia’s voice 
was very low. 

The girl nodded. 

“Sure. Everybod’ here, dey know. You are rich 
lady, an’ da police say maybe you keel your husban’. 
Dey t’ink I keel my man, too, but me, I dunno. I 


198 Dust to Dust 

forget.” She passed a claw-like hand across her 
eyes. “It mak-a no diff’; da bambino is dead.” 

Claudia felt a sharp pang of pity stab through her 
breast. This girl a mother, and bereft! Here was 
greater sorrow even than she had known! 

“Tell me,” she urged gently. 

“It is little to tell.” The soft voice had dropped 
to a dull monotone. “At fifteen I marry and Giuseppe 
he is good, gotta fine fruit-stand, no drink, no play-a 
da card or da lott’. Bimeby da bambino come an’ 
Giuseppe getta in da bad-a comp’, drunk all-a da 
time, beat me, no good. Dat night he come home an’ 
go to hit me but he hurt-a da bambino instead. I 
t’ink maybe it not so bad, but in da morning da bam¬ 
bino is dead, an’ den I go to Giuseppe an’ I look at 
heem! I look at heem, snoring, fat, dirty lik-a da 
peeg, notta know, notta care about da bambino—an’ 
den all queek I do not see heem, I see nosing, but 
bimeby I hear da scream! It is me dat is scream’ 
an’ I gotta da stilett’ in my han’. Den dey take me 
away.” 

A bell clanged harshly somewhere and as its jarring 
reverberation died away through the gallery the girl 
started, turning, but Claudia laid her hand on her 
arm. 

“Oh, how terrible!” she cried, half beneath her 
breath. “I am so sorry, so very sorry for you! You 
must tell me more about—about the little bambino!” 

Hurrying back to her cell, she sank upon her cot, 
shuddering with horror and pity, and she found her¬ 
self comparing her own trouble to that of this other 


With Clear Vision 


199 


girl with something very like contempt. She had not 
killed, but what of that? She had thought Niles un¬ 
fit to live and he had only slain her pride, made her 
hate him in the fear that the shadow on his past should 
be) revealed to her world! This other had known 
disillusionment too, and bitter sorrow and pain before 
the thing she loved best had been wantonly destroyed. 
Beside her agony Claudia’s self-pity seemed trivial. 

When the attorneys came again she asked Dreyer 
why he had sent for Annie without consulting her. 

“The old woman was complaining, talking too 
much,” he explained, with one of his odd, jerky ges¬ 
tures. “Reporters nosing around—looked funny, 
not so good, that you wouldn’t see her, Mrs. Hamers- 
ley. We’ve got to watch public opinion every min¬ 
ute now; feed it, play to it. Knew you wouldn’t 
agree so I had to spring her on you. Don’t blame 
my colleague here, he was against it and he didn’t 
even know when I sent for her.” 

It was the longest speech she had yet heard from 
the taciturn associate counsel, and Claudia turned 
with a little smile to Matthew Rowe. 

“I don’t blame anybody. I didn’t know how glad 
I should be to see Annie until she stood before me— 
Uncle Matt, there is an Italian girl here whose hus¬ 
band killed their baby in a drunken rage and they 
think she stabbed him—” 

“Think!” broke in Dreyer. “You mean Rosa 
Baracca. She might have stood a chance if she hadn’t 
waited till morning and killed him while he slept— 
and then talked too much. She’ll get life.” 


200 


Dust to Dust 

The cool, unconcerned tone struck pitilessly on 
Claudia’s ear, but she smiled at him. 

“You could get her off, you know.” She spoke with 
easy, confidential assurance. “You see, you’ll have 
all that about the baby to—to play up on, and she 
really doesn’t remember what happened; she told me 
so herself. I don’t want any expense spared, but 
she mustn’t know, of course; you—you’ll tell her you 
are just doing it because you are sorry?” 

The two attorneys looked at each other, and Mat¬ 
thew Rowe cleared his throat as Dreyer replied: 

“I’ll see what can be done, Mrs. Hamersley. You 
mustn’t let your sympathies run away with you here, 
but in this case— I’ll see the counsel appointed for 
Rosa and then have a talk with the girl herself.” 

“Thank you. Uncle Matt, there is one more 
thing. Mrs. Yates, that client of yours from the 
West, has called here repeatedly but I wouldn’t see 
her. I thought she only came to gloat because she 
—she hadn’t found it easy to get in with the people 
I’ve always known, but I’m beginning to think that I 
may have been wrong. Do you think she would come 
again if you told her I had asked for her?” 

“She is only waiting to hear that you will see her.” 
Rowe’s worn, harassed face lighted. “I’m glad, my 
dear, that you’ll make friends with her; you’ll soon 
see what a mistake you’ve made.” 

Claudia did realize it to her shame when the next 
visitors’ day brought the plump, little widow. With¬ 
out confusion or any gushing display of sympathy she 
put her arms about the girl and kissed her as placidly 


With Clear Vision 201 

as though she were a next-door neighbor seen again 
after the briefest of intervals. 

“I’m sorry you weren’t well the last time I called.” 
If Claudia had been in her own home, her guest could 
not have spoken with any more conventional note of 
regret, but she added confidentially: “No wonder, 
with all this heat! It’s just smothering, and you’re 
lucky not to be fleshy like me! The air’s so dry out 
where I come from that you can sort of stand it 
better.” 

Claudia saw the kindly intent behind the small talk 
and she said impulsively: 

“I wasn’t really ill, Mrs. Yates; I just wouldn’t see 
anybody! I hope you’ll forgive me, I simply can’t 
explain how I felt.” 

Mrs. Yates nodded serenely. 

“Only sulking, that’s all. You had to get over it 
by yourself. Most everybody’s gone out of town now. 
Mrs. Edgett wanted me to go to the White Moun¬ 
tains with her, but I didn’t feel like parading around 
any more fashionable places. I’ve always felt I’d 
ought to see what they were like and now I have, and 
that’s over!” 

She spoke as though it had been a task dutifully 
performed, and, faintly amused, Claudia asked: 

“Didn’t you enjoy them? I suppose you have 
found everything quite different since you have come 
East to live.” 

“Not to live!” Mrs. Yates shook her head. 
“Calvin always knew he’d strike oil, and he planned 
for years to bring me here and show me everything, 


202 Dust to Dust 

but when he did strike it he couldn’t live to do what 
he wanted, so I thought maybe it would please him, 
if he can know, to have me come just as if he was 
still with me. It’s been wonderful, meeting people 
I’ve read about for years and going to all the places 
we used to talk of, and I’ve had a wonderful time, 
but the new house that Calvin designed will be fin¬ 
ished out home by winter and I’ll be glad to get 
settled.” 

This was the woman she had looked upon as a 
climber, who had brought her money to buy a place 
for herself in a supercilious, but avaricious society! 
Claudia could feel her cheeks burning. 

“It will be interesting, to move into a new home,” 
she murmured. 

“It’s going to be difficult, though,” remarked Mrs. 
Yates. “I mean to have it just as Calvin planned, and 
he wanted everything from the East, the best there 
was. There’s so much of the best though, and all 
different, that I can’t choose! I thought maybe in 
the autumn when I get ready to start buying, you 
might help me to pick out things that wouldn’t look 
as though the paint was hardly dry on them.” 

Claudia shook her head a little wistfully. 

“You are only asking to be kind, I know. I—I 
am not think beyond my trial.” 

“That’s because you’ve been too bothered, but it 
isn’t going to be as bad as you think, dear; nothing 
ever is. We may think we’ve come to the end of 
everything, and then we find it’s only the beginning 
of something new and different, and happier.” She 


With Clear Vision 


203 


paused and added irrelevantly: “Wait till you see the 
statue Stephen is making for me; the memorial to 
Calvin. He’s going to be a very great sculptor.” 

“He is a very staunch, loyal friend,” Claudia said 
warmly. “I know he is going to do big things. How 
is he? I haven’t seen him for some time.” 

“He’s well.—I guess.” Mrs. Yates’ tone was oddly 
hesitant. “I think he has gone away, somewhere. 
Of course, you couldn’t help not caring for him, but 
I suppose he must always have thought you might. 
It seemed as if it almost killed him when your engage¬ 
ment was announced, but he pulled himself together 
somehow, and he’ll be a finer man for it.” 

Claudia looked her blank amazement. 

“Stephen— Oh, you are mistaken, Mrs. Yates! 
Stephen never felt—we have been playmates and 
friends always, that is all. Stephen never cared for 
me, not in that way, and although he didn’t approve 
of my engagement, it didn’t affect him as you imag¬ 
ine.” 

It was Mrs. Yates’ turn to be surprised, and her 
round, good-natured f^ce flushed deeply. 

“Do you mean to say you didn’t know!—that you 
never guessed?” she demanded. “I’m dreadfully 
sorry I said anything, my dear, and I hope you’ll for¬ 
give me!” 

Her tone was filled with honest distress, and 
Claudia hastened to reassure her. 

“There’s nothing to forgive, dear Mrs. Yates! 
You only imagine this about Stephen, I know; he is 
simply wrapped up in his career. Did you see his 


204 Dust to Dust 

model which won the competition for the new court¬ 
house group?” 

With the ease of which her guest was incapable 
she led the talk into safer channels until Mrs. Yates 
took her departure, but back in her cell once more 
Claudia dropped limply down upon the cot. 

Stephen in love with her? It couldn’t be! They 
had been just good pals, nothing more. Why, that 
day when she had told him— All at once the scene 
came back to her mind:—Stephen’s joy over winning 
the competition, the swift change when he discovered 
the engagement ring upon her finger, that odd note 
of pain in his voice beneath the gay, gallant heartiness 
as he wished her “all the happiness in the world!” 
Then, after the tragedy, when he came so faithfully 
to offer his services, how pale and stern he looked, as 
though he too had known suffering!—Great heavens! 
Had he suffered because of her? Had Mrs. Yates 
been able to see what she herself was blind to? 

Her startled thought went on to that quiet hour 
before the dawn when she had looked from her win¬ 
dow to see his solitary figure mounting guard before 
her door, to insure that no second intruder broke in 
to disturb her slumber or do her injury, and then his 
coming to her here in her prison, the mission he had 
undertaken for her— Were these the acts of a 
mere friend, however loyal? His eyes as they looked 
when he greeted her, seemed to be before her now, 
the tone in which he had begged for her faith and 
belief in him came to her again, and in shocked pity 
she realized the truth. Stephen loved her! 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE DREAD ALTERNATIVE 

“^"^LAUDIA, you are strong? Brave enough to 
€ j face to-morrow?” Matthew Rowe took both 
her hands and looked deep into Claudia’s eyes. 
“The waiting must have seemed weary and long, but 
you endured it better than I dared hope. Now that 
we are on the eve of the trial, my dear, I want you 
to tell me frankly just how you feel.” 

“Quite calm, Uncle Matt, and absolutely confident!” 
She smiled back valiantly into his harassed face. “You 
don’t know how I shall welcome to-morrow! To 
think that the world will at last know what a fearful 
mistake has been made and my name shall be cleared 
of this stain of crime! It will be the happiest mo¬ 
ment of my life, Uncle Matt, when I face the jury 
to-morrow!” 

“I hope so, dear child!” He drew a chair close, 
where he could watch every change of expression, and 
something in his manner brought a vague touch of 
disquietude to the girl. Had Uncle Matt bad news 
for her? Could there be another blow in store? 

“Where is Mr. Dreyer?” she asked. “I haven’t 
had an opportunity to thank him for his splendid work 
in freeing Rosa Baracca. I saw her every day before 
her trial, you know, and she was so hopeless, so utterly 
forlorn! Just think, if it hadn’t been for him there 
205 


206 Dust to Dust 

would have been years, a lifetime, perhaps, of prison 
before her!” 

“If it hadn’t been for your interest on her behalf, 
you mean!” Rowe responded. “But let us talk of you 
now. I came alone, Claudia, because what I have to 
say is for your ears and only yours. I must tell you 
something it was never intended you should know, 
something that will shock you deeply, but on it rests a 
decision it may be necessary for you to make to-mor¬ 
row.” 

“ ‘A decision’ ?” Claudia frowned in puzzled won¬ 
der. “I can’t imagine what you mean, Uncle Matt!— 
No word has come from Stephen? The man Zorn 
hasn’t been found?” 

He shook his head and seemed to find it difficult to 
go on. 

“Claudia, hasn’t a shadow of doubt come to you as 
to the possible outcome of your trial? Do you real¬ 
ize that you may actually be convicted?” 

“Uncle Matt!” There was a little catch in her 
breath. “Do you mean you’re not sure I’ll be set 
free?—But of course I shall be! You just don’t want 
me to seem too confident in court, you and Mr. Dreyer 
want me to play a part before the jury, but I couldn’t! 
I know they’ll see the truth and exonerate me as surely 
as I know my own innocence! Why—why do you look 
at me like that?” 

“The state has a very strong case, Claudia, stronger 
than you seem to be able to realize,” he replied slowly. 
“We must consider the possibility that you may be 
convicted. They can never get a first degree convic- 


The Dread Alternative 207 

tion, that goes without saying, but it is barely possible 
that you might be convicted of manslaughter. That 
stuns you, I know, but the time has come when you 
must face the truth. I must make you see what may 
be in store for you—if we fight.” 

“ ‘If we fight’!” Claudia repeated faintly. “Uncle 
Matt, you—mean this? You aren’t trying just to—to 
frighten me?” 

“God help me, no!” he said solemnly. “I would 
have spared you this if I could but we must prepare 
now for the worst. Don’t you see the difficulties? 
Your very name and social position are against you! 
And then the evidence. . . . Please try to understand, 
my dear!” 

A sudden light had broken over Claudia and a swift 
flash of memory made her lips twist in a bitter smile. 

“I think I do, Uncle Matt! When an accused 
person’s own counsel are not convinced of her inno¬ 
cence there is always the risk that the jury may share 
their secret opinion! That’s what you’re trying to 
say, isn’t it? That’s what you thought would shock 
me deeply? Would you be shocked yourself if I were 
to tell you I’ve always known it? I’ve known from the 
first that you thought I shot Niles!” 

“Claudia, hush! You don’t know what you’re say¬ 
ing!” Rowe exclaimed half under his breath. “How 
could such an idea have entered your head! You 
must be mad—!” 

“You thought that, too, didn’t you?” She faced 
him steadily. “Can you tell me on your honor, Uncle 
Matt, that you didn’t think I’d gone out of my mind 


208 Dust to Dust 

for a minute, anyway, there in the attic; that minute 
when I held the revolver in my hand?” 

“I can say on my word of honor, my child, that I 
know you never even for an instant lost command of 
your reason and knowing that, I am as sure of your 
innocence as I am of my own!” Again there was that 
deep note of solemnity in his tones, but Claudia shook 
her head. 

“The time has come when we must both face the 
truth,” she said. “You can say that now, perhaps, 
but you’re begging the question. From the moment 
you found the revolver beside Niles’ body and saw 
the wound, you doubted me—oh, don’t misunderstand 
me, Uncle Matt! What you did to help me was all 
the more splendid of you, believing what you did, and 
there was never an instant that I haven’t been sure of 
your loyalty and grateful for it from my heart, but 
you did think that I might have fired that shot in a 
fit of temporary insanity. The way you looked at 
me, everything you said, your fear that I would be 
arrested even before the funeral—oh, it was all so 
plain! I couldn’t speak of it to you when I realized 
what was really in your mind; that was after we re¬ 
turned from the cemetery and I found you in the li¬ 
brary looking over that old book on mental diseases. 
You thought I didn’t notice, but I examined it when 
you left and the absence of dust only on that one you 
had handled gave you away. I couldn’t bring myself 
to mention it even after I was indicted and brought 
here; I could only hope and pray that you would come 
to see how terribly mistaken you had been!” 


The Dread Alternative 209 

There was a pause and then Matthew Rowe drew a 
deep breath. 

“It is true, Claudia! I did think, for just a little 
while, that you might have suffered a temporary aber¬ 
ration of mind and—accidentally—discharged the re¬ 
volver, but long ago I was convinced of my mistake. 
It’s strange that you should have brought that up 
now, but it may make it easier for me to say what I 
must and for you to listen. The evidence is against 
us, as I have said; your implicit faith in the man who 
left you practically at the altar with a time-worn ex¬ 
cuse can be riddled with sarcasm by the prosecution, 
and if once the jury doubted a word of your story 
without thinking too what I did at first you are lost! 
If they believe that you killed your husband acci¬ 
dentally or under great provocation—in self-defense, 
perhaps, after a terrific quarrel—they may bring in 
a second degree verdict and that will mean a term in 
prison. There is a chance that they won’t believe your 
story—such a big chance that, frankly, we don’t want 
to take it while an alternative remains.” 

“There is an alternative, then?” Claudia’s thoughts 
went quickly back over their interview. “You said I 
have a decision to make; is that what you meant? 
You said, too: ‘If we fight!’ Do you think for an 
instant that I won’t fight with the last ounce of strength 
there is in me to clear my name—the name of my 
people—from this frightful stain?” 

“You would be clearing your name—in a way. You 
would be exonerating yourself—or rather, we would 
be exonerating you. We would have a long-drawn- 


210 Dust to Dust 

out fight for it, perhaps, but we couldn’t lose—if we 
took the alternative.” 

“But what is it?” Claudia asked. “I don’t under¬ 
stand even yet, Uncle Matt.” 

“We could bring a surer plea for you than accident 
or self-defense would be, and enough proof of it to 
satisfy any jury. It wouldn’t be real proof, of course, 
Claudia, and the prosecution would combat it tooth 
and nail, but it would be—er—manufactured by some 
of the biggest men in the country, and we could bring 
enough true evidence in corroboration to compel the 
jury to hold you blameless for your husband’s death.” 
Rowe paused, adding after a moment: “You mustn’t 
think this is a new thought in our minds, my dear 
child. Dreyer and I have already paved the way for 
it, in the event that we found it necessary to place the 
alternative before you. Do you recall when Annie 
came to see you the first time?” 

“Yes!” Claudia glanced at him quickly. “I 
thought it was some trick, and when one of the most 
sensational papers came out the next day with a highly 
colored account of it, making Annie a heartbroken 
wreck and me a long-suffering heroine, I was sure, 
even before Mr. Dreyer’s explanation about the need 
of playing on public opinion. But what has that to 
do with the alternative you speak of?” 

“The young man who brought Annie here was the 
reporter for the paper you mention; Dreyer had ar¬ 
ranged that, but the trick wasn’t entirely for his bene¬ 
fit, although his sheet is the only one which has unre¬ 
servedly championed you from the start. We took 


The Dread Alternative 211 

care that the reporter didn’t catch a glimpse of an¬ 
other man who was present, but you had eyes only for 
Annie and didn’t see how quickly he turned away.” 
Once more Rowe hesitated. “I mean the man you 
met as ‘Mr.’ Underton.” 

“Mr. Dreyer said he’d been associated with him on 
former cases, and you had consulted him then in an 
advisory capacity.” Claudia nodded. “I never 
thought to ask you what capacity it was.” 

“He is Dr. Forrest Underton.” The words came 
slowly but distinctly, and Claudia half rose from her 
chair and then sank back again. 

“The great alienist!—And you pretend that you 
didn’t think me insane!” 

“I knew then that you were not and never had been, 
my child, but we had to be prepared.” There was 
unmistakable earnestness in Rowe’s tone. “Underton 
suggested that emotional test himself and we thought 
it wise to comply. You will naturally resent it, but 
we were acting in your own best interests, for your 
sake alone!” 

“Do you mean that you would try to make a jury 
believe that I was crazy at—at the time of Niles’ 
death!—That perhaps I killed him, after all? Is that 
your alternative?” Claudia’s voice rang with scorn. 
“You admit that you know it isn’t true, that any so- 
called proof you could bring of it would be false, manu¬ 
factured ! Do you think any jury would accept it be¬ 
fore they believed my story?” 

“I do, Claudia, for I told you, too, that we could 
support it with true evidence.” Rowe seemed choos- 


212 Dust to Dust 

ing his words with almost painful care. “That evi¬ 
dence is what it was intended to keep from you al¬ 
ways, a knowledge of something that will shock you 
greatly. When you looked over those books on men¬ 
tal diseases you had discovered me examining, did it 
occur to you to wonder how they came to be there in 
your library or had you noticed them before ?” 

“I hadn’t, and I did wonder, for I had never heard 
the word ‘insanity’ even mentioned at home, but I 
supposed father had become interested in it at one 
time or another, the way he took up so many things— 
Why do you speak of them?” 

Her tone had quickened with her breath and she 
waited tensely for his reply. It was long in coming 
and again he appeared to be studying each sentence. 

“You didn’t wonder how or why your father had 
become interested in it, though, did you? You never 
questioned the story of the sealed room above your 
own? You haven’t crossed its threshold, I know. If 
you had you would have seen that the few articles of 
furniture are clamped down and their corners pro¬ 
tected; there are inner shutters of steel at the win¬ 
dows which do not show from the street and the walls 
are padded—1” 

“Stop!” Claudia cried, pressing her hands to her 
temples. “Don’t beat about the bush any more, Uncle 
Matt, I can’t bear it! What are you trying to tell 
me?” 

“That your mother did not die abroad, Claudia, and 
she was never physically ill until the last few weeks. 
It was given out at first that she was, and later that 


The Dread Alternative 213 

she had gone to Europe in search of health, but that 
was for the sake of what people would say, what they 
might later, whisper about you, too, at the first sign of 
possible eccentricity. Your mother spent two long, 
hopeless years in that room and died as she had lived 
—insane.” 

“I don’t believe it!” Claudia exclaimed in horror. 
“My gentle little mother, who was always so per¬ 
fectly poised, so completely mistress of herself? This 
is a trick, like that other, only a despicable one!” 

“It is the truth, Claudia. Dr. Van Tuyl can tell 
you; he attended her and did everything that a mere 
physician could. Ask Annie; she nursed your mother 
devotedly until the progress of the disease made it 
necessary to employ professional aid. George knew, 
and Dr. Underton, who had you under observation 
here that day, is no stranger in your house; he was 
frequently called in consultation when your mother 
became dangerously violent toward the last. It grieves 
me deeply to have to tell you what your father hoped 
you would never have to know but there is no help 
for it!” The attorney’s voice was shaking now. “Are 
you beginning to understand why it occurred to me that 
you might have suffered from a temporary seizure, 
there in the attic? Your mother’s trouble came from 
no shock, nor accident, nor injury of any sort, and the 
consensus of opinion of the specialists was that it must 
have been latent for many years, perhaps always; 
that she might have inherited it, even though no trace 
could be found of it in the history of her family, and 
that it might or might not have been transmitted to 


214 Dust to Dust 

you. That remote possibility in their diagnosis might 
be your saving grace now; the corroborative evidence 
I spoke of, which would clench the matter finally in 
the minds of a jury. We’d put Annie and George on 
the stand and the doctors would be permitted to tes¬ 
tify in this case, while I myself—” 

“Please don’t say any more, Uncle Matt!” 
Claudia’s voice was low and shaking also, and great 
tears stood in her eyes. “If that is the alternative I 
shall never consent to it! How could you think that 
to save myself I would brand the memory of my dead 
mother with this stigma? Her misfortune was hid¬ 
den from the world and those who knew have kept 
the secret until now. Should I be the one to betray 
it? Through me, but through no fault of mine, enough 
shame and disgrace has been attached to our name 
already; did you imagine that I would blacken it still 
further by telling this dreadful story and try to hide 
behind it, tacitly admitting to an unspeakable lie, that 
I was insane myself—that while insane I committed 
the crime of which I stand accused?” 

“To save yourself from being convicted of it in 
any case!” Matthew Rowe retorted. “A few weeks in 
a private sanatorium, where every one about you would 
understand that you were only there to lend verisimili¬ 
tude to your defense, or a few years in prison; which 
should it be, Claudia? You’ve had a short period of 
confinement, with few rules and regulations and every 
possible luxury; can you picture to yourself what years 
of it would mean with no luxuries, no comforts, few 
of what you consider necessities, even?—With cruelly 


The Dread Alternative 215 

hard labor, the contamination of daily association with 
the lowest of your sex, and shame and degradation 
forever? You are innocent but the evidence may be 
too strong against you; that’s the case in a nutshell, 
and we’ve got to circumvent it the only way we can. 
There is only a chance in a million that a trial jury 
would believe your story and acquit you and we are 
afraid to risk it! Your parents are gone, you must 
think of yourself now. The decision rests with you, 
my child, but think well! We could enter a plea of 
temporary insanity from hereditary causes—?” 

“No, Uncle Matt!” Claudia dashed the tears from 
her eyes and smiled. “We will fight! You and Mr. 
Dreyer will do your best for me and I shall be freed 
or go to prison on the merits of my story which hurts 
no one, living or dead! I am going to take that mil¬ 
lionth chance!” 


CHAPTER XV 


ON THE RACK 

T HE anteroom had fallen into silence, and the 
little group of men by the window turned with 
one accord as the door was thrown open and 
Claudia entered beside her guard. Her slender fig¬ 
ure looked singularly immature and pathetic in the 
simple black gown with a fold of white crepe about 
her soft throat, and the mass of golden hair was 
braided like a coronet around the small head. 

Dreyer, the versatile, had seen to the general effect 
and Mrs. Yates under his tutelage had made no mis¬ 
take in her second selection. “Don’t emphasize style 
and money, or the mourning,” he had advised. “That 
would be meat for the prosecution. Unsophisticated 
sincerity—that’s our keynote, see? Black, of course, 
and becoming; bring out all her natural beauty but 
make her look like a little girl if you can.” 

Claudia had submitted without seeming interest, 
but as before when she stood facing her mirror in all 
her bridal array, that same sense of unreality, of play¬ 
ing a part in some strange drama, pervaded her, and 
she moved like an automaton, with no conscious voli¬ 
tion of her own. But her mind was keenly alert and 
apart, watching with dispassionate, critical eyes this 
Claudia who must arm herself with artlessness, feign 
love where only loathing existed, preserve a semblance 
216 


On the Rack 217 

of faith in even the memory of the man who had de¬ 
stroyed it—take that one chance in a million to con¬ 
vince a jury of her fellow beings that her husband’s 
blood was not upon her hands! 

The court room beyond buzzed like a swarm of furi¬ 
ous bees, then a momentary pause ensued, to be fol¬ 
lowed by a subdued droning, and still Claudia waited, 
standing tall and motionless beside her stolid guard. 
All at once the stout man in uniform bent to listen 
at the door, straightened, nodded and with an uncon¬ 
sciously dramatic gesture flung it wide. The time 
had come for the prisoner’s entrance! 

Incongruously, Claudia was again reminded of her 
wedding day, for this, the second appearance before a 
multitude as the cynosure of all eyes, was heralded by 
the same rippling stir and then tense silence. The 
court room was packed to the entrance doors but the 
assemblage was mostly of men, although in the rows 
of spectators bright summer hats and gowns, with 
here and there the flash of a jewel, revealed the pres¬ 
ence of her own sex. In the front row nearest the 
counsels’ table the first familiar face to catch Claudia’s 
slowly moving gaze was the friendly one of Mrs. 
Yates, smiling encouragement; midway behind her 
Mrs. Sears Edgett stared through her lorgnon and at 
her side lounged Dicky Tewson. 

Walking with steady, almost mechanical, steps, 
Claudia had reached her chair by the counsels’ table 
before she realized it. Dreyer bowed with a grave 
dignity she had never seen in his manner during their 
previous meetings and Matthew Rowe shook her hand 


218 Dust to Dust 

with his most fatherly air, although both had left her 
only a few minutes before. 

At last she raised her eyes to the bench of the judge. 
Would he be stern, forbidding, ruthless or had he 
preserved, in spite of the ignoble tragedies which 
passed in daily review before him, a little warm, kindly, 
human faith? 

She saw a waxen, almost bloodless countenance, the 
thin cheeks and straight but mobile lips clean-shaven, 
and keen gray eyes beneath scanty white hair. There 
was nothing definite enough to be ruthless, nothing 
animate enough to reveal the possibility of sympathetic 
forbearance in his aloof, meditative gaze, and his 
eyes met hers and passed on as though she were a 
mere spectator. 

Claudia’s breast rose and fell in a quick little sigh, 
and she glanced away toward an enclosure behind the 
rail of which a close-packed group of men, mostly 
young, sat writing furiously. Among them a solitary 
woman with short, iron-gray hair bent forward to 
catch her eye, but Claudia had dropped hers to the 
slim hands, ringless save for the narrow circlet of 
platinum, which lay quietly in her lap. 

Her thoughts had gone back to the judge. What 
dictum would issue from those pale straight lips when 
the curtain fell? Would he set her free or pronounce 
a few irrevocable words that would send her back to 
prison to await a greater ordeal? Her own lips moved 
slightly but no sound came from them, and presently 
she became aware that the jury was being chosen. She 
listened, as if dazed, while talesman after talesman 


On the Rack 219 

was examined and accepted or challenged. Had her 
ordeal actually begun? 

Afterward she scarcely remembered the endless de¬ 
lays before the first witness was called. It was Dr. 
Jeffreys, the medical examiner, and he was subjected 
to a lengthy cross-examination by Rowe when turned 
over to the prisoner’s counsel. The questions con¬ 
cerned the wound made by the revolver shot, and the 
condition and nature of the injuries inflicted upon the 
body of Niles Hamersley by the fall from the attic 
into the room below, but they brought out nothing 
new. 

He was succeeded on the witness’ stand by Inspector 
Dawes, who corroborated his testimony as to the in¬ 
cidents following their summons to the Langham Man¬ 
sion and his own subsequent visits there. 

Then the clerk of the court called: 

“Risdon Lamont.” 

Claudia started. Why, he was Niles’ friend and 
had been an usher at her wedding! What could this 
middle-aged, rather pompous clubman have to impart? 

Whatever it was he seemed highly reluctant to re¬ 
veal it, for his face flushed painfully as he took the 
stand, and he mumbled the oath with manifest embar¬ 
rassment. 

“Mr. Lamont, you were present at the marriage of 
Niles Hamersley and Claudia Langham, the prisoner 
before you?” 

Mr. Lamont contented himself with a bow of as¬ 
sent and his questioner continued: 

“In what capacity?” 


220 


Dust to Dust 


“I was an usher.” 

“Do you recall any guest or guests who sought ad¬ 
mission without a card?” 

He meant Zorn! Claudia glanced at her attorneys 
but Dreyer had assumed an air of utter boredom and 
Uncle Matt was lost in a reverie which seemed to 
be affording him much inward satisfaction. 

“I recall one, a man.” The witness coughed nerv¬ 
ously. 

“Do you recall him distinctly?” 

“I do.” 

“Mr. Lamont, will you please describe this guest to 
the gentlemen of the jury?” 

“He was short and slight, rather Slavic in type and 
very dark.” The witness appeared to be searching his 
mind in an effort to express himself. “He insisted that 
he was an old and intimate friend of Mr. Hamersley 
and had come from the West solely to attend the 
wedding only to find that he had mislaid his card at 
the last moment, so I led him to one of the rear 
pews. Had he not been correctly attired for the oc¬ 
casion I would not have admitted him, for he was— 
well, not of Mr. Hamersley’s class; not a gentleman, 
in fact.” 

“Can you recall any further details of the man’s 
personal appearance?” 

“His lips were extraordinarily red and he had hands 
as small as a woman’s. I noticed them particularly 
for he kept moving them nervously as though he were 
excited. That is all I remember, but he struck me 
most unpleasantly.” 


On the Rack 221 

“Did you notice him again after you showed him 
to the pew?” 

“Only at the end of the ceremony. He was the 
first to leave the church, directly behind the bridal 
couple, and I felt again that I had made a mistake in 
admitting him.” 

It was Matthew Rowe’s turn and getting leisurely 
out of his chair, he proceeded to make the witness even 
more uncomfortable still, in his benign, courteously 
cheerful voice. 

Despite numerous objections, Mr. Lamont wasn’t 
sure the man said he had come from the “West” after 
all; it might have been “East”—No, he hadn’t had a 
western accent, not any, in fact. Witness couldn’t be 
certain either about his excitement, perhaps it was 
only his manner. Pressed as to the “unpleasant” im¬ 
pression he had received Mr. Lamont found that he 
could not explain it to his own or any one’s else com¬ 
prehension and finally retracted the statement com¬ 
pletely in injured dignity. 

When he left the stand Claudia quailed. What 
would be the next name called? Would it be that of 
Zorn himself? Had he given himself up as State’s 
witness in revenge because she would not meet his de¬ 
mand, or had the police perhaps succeeded where 
Uncle Matt’s agents failed? 

But the name called was utterly unknown to her and 
a sharp-featured shabbily dressed woman came for¬ 
ward, a draggled feather hanging from her storm- 
beaten hat down over one eye. She was Mrs. Delia 
Toohey and “went out by the day”; she had been in 


222 Dust to Dust 

the crowd right outside the church at the curb beside 
the awning when the bride and groom came out and 
she’d seen the gentleman plain, who’d followed them 
and took Mr. Hamersley by the arm. He was small¬ 
like and dark, but swell-looking even if he did act 
worried. Mr. Hamersley seemed surprised but 
greeted him real quiet and friendly and afterwards 
he looked worried, too. She hadn’t heard nothing 
the man said, he spoke so low, but being right at the 
automobile door, as you might say, she did get a few 
words when Mr. Hamersley spoke to the bride. 

“. . . something unforeseen . . . leave the city 
to-day. ... I will come to you . . . mustn’t delay 
. . . home and wait.” 

She couldn’t guess what it meant, of course, but she 
crowded forward and saw the bride nod, real sorrow¬ 
ful-looking. Then Mr. Hamersley spoke to the chauf¬ 
feur but she couldn’t catch what he said and the auto¬ 
mobile rolled away. 

Cross-examination by Mr. Rowe merely emphasized 
the fact of the gentleman’s worried look when he fol¬ 
lowed from the church, Mr. Hamersley’s “friendly” 
greeting of him but sad expression after they’d spoken 
together and the bride’s nod at some question from 
the groom. She was positive the bride looked sad, 
too, as if they’d had bad news. 

She was dismissed and then, indeed, Claudia’s heart 
sank and she looked blindly, instinctively toward Uncle 
Matt, for in a voice as stern as that of one pronounc¬ 
ing sentence, the clerk of the court had called: 

“Annie Booth.” 


On the Rack 223 

With her face as grimly set beneath the glaringly 
new bonnet as though she were proceeding to the 
electric chair itself Annie sailed down the aisle, pat¬ 
ently ignoring her mistress, and took the witness stand. 

“Annie, how long have you been Mrs. Hamersley’s 
maid?” 

“Since I stopped being her nurse, and I was her 
mother’s maid before her.” Annie settled herself 
with aggressive comfort and folded her hands tightly 
over her handbag. 

“Did you attend your mistress’s wedding?” 

“No, sir. I’d have broke down, even though with 
joy—” 

“Never mind the reason!” interrupted the District 
Attorney. “When did you see Mrs. Hamersley for 
the first time after the ceremony?” 

“When she came home from the church. I opened 
the door for her.” 

“What was the first thing she said to you?” 

“That everything was all right,” Annie returned 
promptly. 

“She was not agitated, annoyed?” 

“Oh, no, just sorry about Mr. Hamersley being 
called away. She said he’d be home, though, the next 
day, and I made her comfortable—” 

“Did Mrs. Hamersley say where her husband had 
gone?” 

Claudia waited tensely and it was with something 
like consternation that she heard Annie’s deliberate 
reply. 

“She said he’d been called sudden to a dying friend 


224 Dust to Dust 

in Boston, a Mr. Brown, and she’d told him he must 
go, of course.” 

But this was perjury! Claudia could feel the blood 
ebbing from her face, but all at once she caught Quin- 
cey Dreyer’s eye and understood. He must have 
coached Annie well for she had worded her answer 
carefully not to say when or to whom her mistress 
had made that statement! 

“Did a message of any sort come from Mr. Ha- 
mersley ?” 

“No.” 

“When did he return?” 

“The next day, a little after four in the afternoon. 
Mrs. Hamersley went down to the front door to meet 
him, and she wouldn’t even let George take his 
hat and stick! They went right into the drawing¬ 
room. George came up to where I was starting to 
pack up the last few things, thinking we was going 
right away on the wedding trip, and asked would I 
call him if they rang for tea or anything. He had a 
touch of lumbago and he was going to lie down—” 

“The court is not interested in George at the mo¬ 
ment,” her questioner announced dryly. “You were 
packing, you say. Did you hear any voices from down¬ 
stairs?” 

“No, sir!” the witness snapped. 

“When did you leave this room where you were 
packing?” 

“When I heard a terrible noise!” Annie’s folded 
hands twitched on her bag. “It was the noise of Mr. 
Hamersley’s fall and I never heard anything like it!” 


On the Rack 225 

“Will you describe what you heard, Annie, just as 
it came to your ears?” 

“Well, first there was a crackling, tearing sound 
overhead, but toward the other side of the house kind 
of, and then a regular crash and in the middle of it 
a sharp bang! Then the ripping noise got louder, 
and then there come an awful thud! It was all run 
in together, and after that there was nothing! I hung 
onto a trunk for a minute with my heart in my mouth 
and my legs giving way under me, and then I flew 
upstairs to the next floor and listened but there wasn’t 
a sound, and the stillness seemed to be worse than the 
noise had been!” She paused for breath and went 
on: “The door at the foot of the attic stairs was open 
and that was the first I thought that maybe Mrs. Ha- 
mersley or her husband had gone up there for some¬ 
thing, for I hadn’t heard any footsteps pass along the 
hall, and all at once I remembered about the floor 
being unsafe for a cat to walk over, and the blood 
curdled in my veins! I don’t know how I ever got 
up them attic stairs but I did, and looked in!” 

Annie paused again with unconsciously dramatic ef¬ 
fect. The crowded court room was so still that the 
excited breathing of one of the jurors could plainly 
be heard. A woman gasped audibly. 

“What did you see?” 

“Nothing for a minute. It was getting on to twi¬ 
light and the attic was filled with dust coming up in 
clouds. It fairly choked me, and then I saw Mrs. 
Hamersley where she’d sunk down on the cupola steps, 
breathing like her heart was stopping and staring down 


226 Dust to Dust 

into that dreadful, great hole in the floor!” Annie’s 
head was trembling and nodding as with palsy at the 
memory and the new bonnet had slipped down on her 
forehead. She pushed it back and continued: “I’m 
sure I don’t know what I said but I guess I must have 
hollered when I saw the hole for Miss Claudia—Mrs. 
Hamersley—looked up at me real slow as if she didn’t 
hardly recognize me and said he was down there, that 
the floor had give way! I listened but Mr. Hamersley 
didn’t groan nor anything and I guessed he must have 
been hurt bad. I got flat down on my stomach and 
wriggled out over where I knew there was a beam 
underneath till I come to the edge of the hole where 
I could look down, and then I knew! Mr. Hamersley 
lay there twisted like every bone in his body was 
broken, just as we found him afterwards, and it come 
to me that he wouldn’t ever move nor speak again! 
I couldn’t say so to the poor child—Mrs. Hamersley, 
I mean. She managed to get to her feet and she was 
making for the hole as if she was going to throw her¬ 
self down, too, but I called to her to wait till I got 
to her. When I did she tried still to get to that hole 
and it was a blessing she was so weak I could pull her 
back and lead her to her room.” 

“What did you do then?” 

“Mrs. Hamersley collapsed like something had 
struck her and I got her on the couch and then went 
to telephone for the doctor and Mr. Rowe.” 

“Without going to Mr. Hamersley?” 

“I couldn’t have got to him; the door of that room 
had been locked and sealed for years and Mr. Rowe 


227 


On the Rack 

had the keys. It was done by Mr. Langham’s orders 
after Mrs. Langham died, for she’d been sick in there 
for a long time before she went away and Mr. Lang¬ 
ham couldn’t bear the thought of anybody crossing the 
threshold.—George hadn’t heard a thing, but he was 
downstairs again, and I told him, and then after I 
telephoned I went back to Miss Claud—Mrs. Ha- 
mersley.” 

“What did she say to you?” 

“Lord have mercy, how should I know! She took 
on something terrible, begging me to get help to Mr. 
Hamersley!” Annie pushed back her bonnet again. 
“I do remember her asking if George couldn’t break 
down the door, and when I tried to make her under¬ 
stand that Mr. Hamersley was dead she wouldn’t be¬ 
lieve it, and wanted me to go up and pound on the 
door and call to him that we’d sent for help. In the 
midst of it all Mr. Rowe come, and Mrs. Hamersley 
tried to get up but she fell back in a faint. I hadn’t 
any time to tend to her then, I went with George and 
Mr. Rowe to that room while they got the door open 
and when I saw the revolver laying beside Mr. Ha- 
mersley’s hand I remembered that bang I’d heard, 
right in the middle of the crash.” 

“Are you sure about that, Annie?” The District 
Attorney leaned slightly toward her. “Are you sure 
you didn’t hear that bang first and the sound of the fall 
afterwards?” 

“My hearing’s all right, that I know of!” Annie re¬ 
torted tartly. “I heard that crackling noise and then 
the crash—” 


228 Dust to Dust 

“All right!” The District Attorney interrupted 
again hurriedly as she started parrot-fashion to re¬ 
peat her story. “Did Mrs. Hamersley tell you what 
had taken place between her husband and herself when 
he first came home? Did she say he had pursued her 
to the attic—?’* 

Matthew Rowe was on his feet with an objection 
but Annie over-ruled them both. 

“Not being crazy, she didn’t rave any!” she said 
with withering scorn, but Claudia grasped the adroit 
evasion. “When she got so’s she could talk at all she 
told about them going up to the attic for some papers 
and then seeing that old revolver laying there. . . .” 

“Never mind that now!” the prosecutor cut her sum¬ 
marily short. “If Mrs. Hamersley said nothing to 
you about a quarrel with her husband did she men¬ 
tion it to any one else in your hearing? Did any one 
tell you that she had spoken of a quarrel on his re¬ 
turn?” 

“If Mrs. Hamersley didn’t say any such thing to 
me, she wouldn’t to anybody!” Annie declared with 
decision. “I never heard her, anyway, and nobody 
told me she did!” 

“What did she say to you about the revolver?” 
The District Attorney made a final effort. 

“She didn’t even know there’d been a shot fired 
from it till Mr. Rowe told her, after him and the 
doctor had got through looking at the body!” as¬ 
serted the witness doggedly. “She couldn’t hardly be¬ 
lieve it!” 


On the Rack 229 

With a gesture of surrender the District Attorney 
turned to Claudia’s counsel. 

“The defendant’s witness.” 

“Now, Annie, you say the revolver was lying be¬ 
side Mr. Hamersley’s hand?” began Matthew Rowe, 
rising with a friendly smile. “Beside which hand?” 

“The right one, Mr. Rowe. Almost under it, it 
was.” 

“You saw Mr. Hamersley frequently before the 
wedding?” 

“Every day.” 

“Did you ever wait on him?” 

“George served things mostly but sometimes he was 
sick and I brought tea to them more than once.” 

“Did you ever observe which hand Mr. Hamersley 
used commonly?” 

“The right one, sir. He was a real graceful man 
but kind of clumsy with his left hand; couldn’t do 
hardly anything with it. I’ve often noticed.” 

“Did you pick up that revolver? Did you touch 
it after you saw it lying beside the body?” 

“I wouldn’t have touched it for a million dollars, 
Mr. Rowe!” Unutterable horror rang in her tones 
but she added: “Many’s the time I have before, 
though!” 

“You recognized it, then?” he asked quickly. “You 
can identify it?” 

Annie drew back from the weapon which was in¬ 
troduced in evidence and held out to her but pointed 
toward the handle. 


230 Dust to Dust 

“Do you see where the paint’s kind of wore off? 
I did that years ago, trying to clean it up, not know¬ 
ing it was loaded when I found it on Mr. Langham’s 
desk. I like to’ve died anyway when he come in and 
told me how near I’d been to killing myself! He 
never kept it loaded after that, and I’ve moved it 
many a time, cleaning out the papers in his desk. I 
should think I did know it!” 

“When was the last time you saw it prior to Mr. 
Hamersley’s death?” 

“Months ago, before Miss Claudia took it up to 
the attic—and then forgot all about it. I wish I’d 
thrown it away when I had the chance!” As though 
suddenly recalling something Annie looked down, fum¬ 
bled with the catch on her bag and clapped her hand¬ 
kerchief to eyes that a moment before had seemed 
to Claudia to be peculiarly dry and hard. Then a 
cracked but realistic wail broke out. “Oh, why did 
Mr. Hamersley pick it up when Miss Claudia didn’t 
want him to! Little the poor man thought he was 
playing with death!” 


CHAPTER XVI 

FOUND! 

W HEN Annie’s histrionic outburst had been 
quelled and she was permitted to leave the 
stand the noon recess was called, and Claudia 
went back to her cell as though in a dream. 

How loyal Annie had been! Her resourcefulness, 
indefatigably as she must have been drilled, was a 
revelation! She had stuck to the letter if not the 
spirit of the truth, Claudia was forced to admit to 
herself; on her return home from the marriage cere¬ 
mony she had reassured the astounded old woman by 
saying that everything was “all right,” and after the 
tragedy itself she had refused to believe Niles was 
dead when Annie told her and insisted that help be 
gotten to him, and she had been ignorant of the shot 
discharged from the revolver until Uncle Matt told 
her. But how differently it all sounded! 

She choked down a little food and was then sum¬ 
moned to a conference with her counsel, little dream¬ 
ing what was in store for her. The recess was to 
be prolonged and Claudia was led once more to the 
visitors’ room. 

On the threshold she paused with a gasp, for a 
third man stood with Uncle Matt and Dreyer— 
Stephen! 

“Claudia!” He advanced to her with outstretched 
231 


232 Dust to Dust 

hand and she read his message in his shining eyes even 
before he spoke. “I have found Hugo Zorn!” 

She tottered and would have fallen had he not 
caught her in his arms, and for a moment she clung 
to him trembling, the surging beat of his heart against 
hers vibrating through all her frame, seeming to endow 
her with new strength. Then she gently withdrew 
herself from his protective embrace and let him lead 
her to a chair. 

Matthew Rowe cleared his throat but his tones were 
still husky. 

“This is wonderful news, my dear! Dreyer and I 
found Stephen in my office and rushed him here that 
you might hear his story without delay. He has 
learned the whole truth of the affair in your husband’s 
past that Zorn was holding over his head, and not¬ 
withstanding the fact that it is bound to revolt and 
hurt you—” 

“Do you think anything can ever hurt me again, 
Uncle Matt?” Claudia interrupted. “Whatever it is 
in Niles’ past, however revolting, it is far better for 
me to know it than imagine the fearful things that 
have thronged my brain since that man appeared, leer¬ 
ing from the pew as I came down the aisle of the 
church!” 

“I told you!” Dreyer nodded quickly. “The knowl¬ 
edge of her husband’s real character may be a shock 
to Mrs. Hamersley but she’s right; the truth is best. 
—Munson, don’t bother now with how you discovered 
Zorn; get down to cases and tell her just what you 
told us as nearly in the fellow’s own words as you can 


Found! 233 

remember, from the minute you confronted him this 
afternoon in that flat on the Concourse.” 

Stephen regarded Claudia with troubled eyes. 

“I don’t like to be the one to bring an added blow 
to you after all you have endured to-day nor to speak 
disparagingly of the dead as I must, but I’m not going 
to think of myself now. I know from Mr. Rowe what 
you told Inspector Dawes about Niles Hamersley’s 
early history which he had let fall to you from time 
to time, and you said later to Mr. Rowe that you 
thought he had not inherited all his money but made 
it in stock speculations in some Western city. Did I 
understand that correctly?” 

“Yes, Stephen.” She nodded. “I didn’t tell the 
inspector because looking back I could see that Niles’ 
manner had been odd and constrained after that single 
occasion when he spoke of those operations, as though 
he were sorry he had mentioned that period in his life 
to me, and when I found there was something hanging 
over him it occurred to me that it must belong to 
those years which he didn’t care to discuss.—You don’t 
mean that his money was made in illegal ways, that 
he was a criminal?” 

“Criminal negligence is all that the law could have 
held him responsible for, yet there was murder on his 
soul, Claudia!” Stephen’s voice was low but firm, 
and although he spoke with an obvious effort he went 
doggedly on: “The foundation of the fortune he was 
making was the indirect cause of the action which he 
took and which resulted in the death of one innocent 
person and the unjust punishment of another. I’ll cut 


234 Dust to Dust 

this part of the story as short as I can and then give 
you Zorn’s version of how he came to be involved in 
the matter.” 

“He told me that he had once done a great favor 
for my husband and run a personal risk in doing so,” 
Claudia observed. 

“He magnifies the risk but he did help Niles Ha- 
mersley out of a—a nasty hole. They were clerks to¬ 
gether in the St. Louis branch office of a stock broker¬ 
age concern with headquarters in Chicago some twelve 
years ago, making twenty dollars a week and commis¬ 
sions, and neither of them had another penny. Ha- 
mersley was prepossessing, though; Zorn was not. He 
lived in a cheap commercial hotel and played the races 
on the quiet; Hamersley had a cubbyhole of a room in 
an extremely proper boarding-house in the outskirts of 
the best residential section of the city and played so¬ 
ciety. His name wasn’t Hamersley then, Claudia; it 
was Jim Raikes, and he changed it legally afterward, 
as Zorn ascertained, but he was really a native of 
Canada, as he told you.” 

“The son of an English valet who migrated there 
with his master and married the daughter of a sheep 
farmer.” Dreyer’s cool voice broke in. “Our client 
Wants all the truth, Munson.” 

“Tell me!” Claudia begged. “I agree with Mr. 
Dreyer, Stephen; I must know everything! You say 
that Niles ‘played society’; do you mean women? 
Zorn said that he was always a wizard with them, 
that he hypnotized them, but I never gave it a second 
thought.” 


Found! 235 

“He was a—great success with them,” Stephen said 
slowly. “Especially the rich, elderly ones. Please 
try to remember that I am only repeating Zorn’s story. 
Hamersley handled all the women’s accounts at the 
brokerage house and his commissions more than 
doubled Zorn’s. He laid himself out to be agreeable 
and the women—widows for the most part, with more 
money than they knew what to do with—-took to in¬ 
viting him to their houses. He had a flair, a natural 
genius for social organization and soon he was plan¬ 
ning their entertainments, originating novel parties 
and that sort of thing, until no affair in a certain clique 
was complete without him. The leader of their set 
was the widow of a millionaire brewer, so old that she 
was becoming a trifle eccentric, and Hamersley made 
himself indispensable to her. He was only in the 
late twenties, you know, and she took a tremendous 
fancy to him, being quite alone in the world. Before 
long she was lending him large sums to speculate with 
on the market on his own account, and he severed his 
connection with the brokerage house but still kept up 
his acquaintance with Zorn, who claims he gave him 
valuable tips. 

“The old lady had promised to remember Hamers¬ 
ley substantially in her will but she put it off and the 
matter was hanging fire when he met a girl who upset 
all his calculations. She was a decent enough little 
thing, according to Zorn, and worked in the confec¬ 
tioner’s shop where Hamersley bought candy for his 
elderly benefactress. She was engaged to a young 
plumber who owned a fast second-hand runabout; I 


236 Dust to Dust 

mention this because that car figures in the catastro¬ 
phe which happened later. 

“Minnie—that was the girl’s name—fell head over 
heels in love with Hamersley when he began amusing 
himself by flirting with her, and he took her about on 
the quiet, showing her the sort of life she’d never 
known before; late parties at road houses and that 
sort of thing—nothing wrong, but it would have 
broken off her affair with the young chap who was 
saving up to marry her and killed Hamersley’s chances 
of an inheritance from the jealous old lady if it had 
become known. 

“He tried to break away after a while, but the girl 
couldn’t understand and kept running after him until 
he was mortally afraid it would come to the old lady’s 
ears. He kept in touch with Zorn and told him all 
his difficulties. One night the girl borrowed her sweet¬ 
heart’s car and waylaid Hamersley as he was leaving 
his benefactress’ house after a big dinner party. Min¬ 
nie was heartbroken and hysterical and in fear that 
she would make a scene which some of the other de¬ 
parting guests might witness he got in and drove for 
a little way out into the country with her. 

“Zorn professes not to know how it actually hap¬ 
pened but it is inconceivable that Hamersley delib¬ 
erately wrecked the car. Anyway it was found next 
morning demolished in a ditch on the outskirts of the 
city, with the girl dead beside it. There were houses 
near, although not near enough for their occupants 
to have heard the crash, and most of them had tele¬ 
phones. An ambulance could have reached the spot 


Found! 237 

from a city hospital in plenty of time to save her life, 
as the autopsy proved, but the girl died without aid, 
alone.” 

“How—terrible!” Claudia shuddered. “What a 
fiend, a cowardly, despicable wretch he was! I can¬ 
not believe it, and yet—I once saw an expression on 
his face— I suppose that even a life could not stand 
in the way of his ambition!” 

“That was it, Claudia,” Stephen agreed gently. 
“Now for Zorn’s part in it, and you must believe as 
much or as little of his account as you please. It was 
midnight or a little after in late summer, and too hot 
to sleep. He was tossing about half-clad on his bed in 
the shabby little hotel room when Hamersley slipped 
in, white and shaking and covered with dust and blood. 

“He told Zorn of the meeting and the drive out into 
the country, of telling Minnie that he was through and 
wouldn’t see her again and the scene that ensued. He 
admitted he was driving and going faster and faster in 
his anger and disgust with the whole affair and sud¬ 
denly the girl, beside herself, seized the wheel, sending 
the car into the ditch. He said he was thrown clear 
and stunned but not hurt except for the gash in his 
shoulder, but when he regained consciousness the girl 
was dead. Zorn swears he believed him then, but there 
was no mark on Hamersley’s head as though he had 
been stunned and the autopsy revealed that the girl had 
lived for more than an hour after the accident, too 
weak to call for help. 

“He said that when he saw there was nothing to be 
done for Minnie he began to think of the old woman 


238 Dust to Dust 

and the fortune that night’s work would cost him if it 
were known and so he had come to Zorn for an alibi, 
sneaking into the hotel past the sleeping porter. He 
took off the rags of his dinner clothes and Zorn bathed 
and bandaged his shoulder, getting him into pajamas. 
Then they rang for the porter to bring ice-water, com¬ 
plaining that they’d been ringing for an hour, that 
Zorn had had a nose-bleed and pointing to the soiled 
towels for verification. They made a few other re¬ 
marks to convince the man that they’d been in the 
room together since early evening, immediately after 
Hamersley had left the old lady’s dinner party, in the 
event that any one might have seen him with the girl. 

“No one had, though. Zorn lent him a suit in the 
morning and the following night buried the torn, blood¬ 
stained dinner clothes in one of the parks while Ha¬ 
mersley was in Chicago where he had gone to duplicate 
them in a hurry. The car was traced, of course, the 
girl’s fiance was arrested and served a term in the peni¬ 
tentiary. When he came out he disappeared and Zorn 
swears he kept silence through friendship for Hamers¬ 
ley, that being the risk he ran. The young man 
couldn’t prove where he had spent the evening, you 
see, and the circumstantial evidence was damning. 

“The old lady died subsequently without changing 
her will to leave anything to Hamersley, but he’d—er 
•—borrowed enough from her by that time to lay the 
foundations of his fortune and his success on the 
market in Chicago was phenomenal. Zorn says he lost 
track of him after he left St. Louis, which may or may 


Found! 239 

not be true; he himself had fallen on hard times and 
he recognized a picture of Hamersley published in a 
New York paper that he picked up in Milwaukee a 
few days before—before the wedding. The change 
of name puzzled him but he was certain of his identity 
and came to get his old friend to help him, as he puts 
it. He had enough money to make a presentable ap¬ 
pearance in the church and managed to get an usher 
to admit him without a card. Hamersley thought he 
was dead, it seems, and although Zorn swears he was 
not responsible for such a rumor reaching him, I fancy 
it was all part of a well-laid scheme. 

“He declares that about three months ago he ran 
into the young man who had disappeared. He’d been 
digging up evidence against Hamersley and was de¬ 
termined to get him if the law didn’t, but he was look¬ 
ing for ‘Jim Raikes,’ you see. He doesn’t know now 
that they were one and the same, nor that the man who 
let his sweetheart die is dead himself, but Zorn asserts 
that he is here in the East now, and he can produce him 
at a few hours’ notice. Whether that is a bluff or not, 
he evidently held it over Hamersley’s head, and now he 
wants twenty-five thousand dollars, Claudia, before 
eight o’clock to-night or he’ll come down and give him¬ 
self up as a material witness for the State. Mr. Rowe 
and his associate here say that his story—” 

Stephen paused suggestively and Dreyer exclaimed: 
“It would convict you, Mrs. Hamersley, without 
the jury leaving the box!” 

“It isn’t as though you were guilty, Claudia!” Mat- 


240 


Dust to Dust 

thew Rowe supplemented. “You are innocent and we 
cannot afford to let the prosecution get hold of this 
evidence to injure your case further.” 

“To do so might bring about a miscarriage of jus¬ 
tice, Claudia,” Stephen said in a choked voice. “That 
scoundrel will never carry out his threat! If you won’t 
consent to the payment of this money I swear that 
when I meet him in the morning to keep my appoint¬ 
ment I’ll silence him forever!” 

“Stephen! No!—Never that!” Claudia cried. 
“There has been enough hideous tragedy connected 
with this case and there shall be no blood on your 
hands because of me! Give him the money, Uncle 
Matt! You can arrange for such a sum in time?” 

“I have had it ready, waiting!” Rowe returned 
grimly. “Stephen will send me a message when he has 
concluded the business and I’ll see that it reaches us in 
court.—We will be called at any moment.” 

Claudia straightened. 

“I am ready when they come,” she murmured. “You 
—you will let us know at once, Stephen?” 

“Of course he will!” Dreyer interposed briskly. 
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Hamersley. I very much doubt 
Zorn’s story that the dead girl’s fiance has turned up 
again. We’ll deal with this blackmailer if he tries to 
gouge you in the future and meantime you need not 
fear him. We’ve more than an even chance to free 
you now!” 

“But on a—a lie, though!” Claudia clasped her 
hands. “If only somehow the real truth could be 
known! To think that that old revolver of father’s 


Found! 241 

should have been the cause of all this tragedy now! 
Do you remember that time we took it to play with 
years ago, Stephen? We little thought then what the 
future was to bring!” 

“Claudia!” Stephen sprang from his chair. “It is 
the same revolver? You’re sure of it?” 

“Why, of course—” she began wonderingly, but he 
had already turned to the attorneys. 

“It’s the star exhibit of the prosecution, isn’t it?” 

“Yes.” Dreyer was eyeing him keenly. “It was 
put in evidence just before the noon recess, when 
Annie testified. What’s on your mind?” 

“You can arrange to see that revolver now, though, 
can’t you? I only want a glimpse of it, not to touch 
it!” Stephen was growing more and more excited and 
Rowe interposed: 

“It is possible, but what is the use, my boy? We 
know, unfortunately, that it was in working order—” 

“Never mind! We’ve got to work fast!” Stephen 
turned to Claudia once more and held out his hand. 
“Perhaps we won’t win on a lie, after all! There’ll be 
a new witness to-morrow—for the defense!” 

He hurried away and in another moment the sum¬ 
mons came. Claudia took her seat in the court room 
again with much of the weight of horror lifted from 
her, but the next witness whose name was bawled by 
the clerk of the court sent her thoughts quickly into 
another channel. 

“Dr. Van Tuyl.” 

Her own physician!—But he knew nothing about 
Zorn! Was he to be questioned concerning that day 


242 Dust to Dust 

when Annie had summoned him hastily to the house— 
the day of Niles’ death? 

Her eyes blurred as the familiar figure of the old 
doctor mounted to the stand and the kindly voice she 
had known since childhood took the oath. Was he 
avoiding her gaze? He kept his eyes resolutely 
fastened on the District Attorney and awaited the first 
question with simple, natural dignity. 

“Were you present at the wedding of Niles Ha- 
mersley and Claudia Langham?” 

“Yes.” 

“Have you made a professional call at Mrs. Ha- 
mersley’s home since that event?” 

“Yes, On the afternoon of the following day.” 

“Who sent for you?” 

“The maid, Annie Booth. I was out on a visit but 
when I returned my resident nurse informed me she 
had telephoned, speaking for Mrs. Hamersley; Mr. 
Hamersley had met with a serious accident and I was 
requested to come immediately.” Dr. Van Tuyl spoke 
ver> slowly as if giving each word due consideration. 

“At what time did you receive this message, 
Doctor?” 

“At a little after six. I recall it distinctly because 
I had been delayed on a serious case and was late for 
my office hours. A number of patients were waiting 
for me, but on receiving that message I turned them 
over to my assistant and hurried to Mrs. Hamersley’s 
home.” 

“Who admitted you?” 


Found! 243 

“The butler, George.” Dr. Van Tuyl was appar¬ 
ently on the point of continuing but checked himself 
and waited, still eyeing his questioner with grave at¬ 
tention. 

“What did he say to you?” 

“I spoke first,” the doctor replied. “I asked him 
where my patient was and he said: ‘Upstairs, sir. I’ll 
show you!’ He led me to a bedroom on the third 
floor. Mr. Hamersley was lying there, dead.” 

“Was any one in the room with the body?” 

“Yes, sir. Annie the maid and Mr. Matthew 
Rowe.” 

“Ah!” The District Attorney paused for emphasis. 
“Mr. Matthew Rowe, the senior counsel for the 
defense, whom you see before you?” 

“Yes, sir.” Dr. Van Tuyl’s gently courteous tone 
did not change a shade, but his meaning was unmis¬ 
takable. “Mr. Matthew Rowe, the attorney for two 
generations of the Langham family.” 

“What was Mr. Matthew Rowe doing?” The 
question came with peremptory haste. 

“When I entered the room where Mr. Hamersley’s 
body lay? He was standing beside it, looking down.” 

“Who spoke first?” 

“Annie the maid. I do not recall exactly what she 
said, it was merely an ejaculation.—‘Here’s the doc¬ 
tor!’ Just something like that. Mr. Rowe looked at 
me then and said: ‘This is a frightful thing, Doctor!’ 
I didn’t answer but knelt down beside the body to ex¬ 
amine it. Then I saw the revolver.” 


244 


Dust to Dust 

“What revolver ?” 

“One that was lying almost beneath Mr. Ha- 
mersley’s right hand.” 

“Is this it?” With a dramatic flourish the District 
Attorney picked up from the table the weapon already 
shown to old Annie, and Quincey Dreyer leaned to¬ 
ward his client. 

“That’s our witness for to-morrow.” The words 
reached her ears alone. “The witness who will set 
you free I” 


CHAPTER XVII 


UNDER OATH 

“TS this the revolver you saw lying beside Niles 
I Hamersley’s body, Doctor?” the District At¬ 
torney repeated. 

“I cannot say definitely; I think so.” Dr. Van Tuyl 
turned the weapon over thoughtfully in his hands. 
“It was one of an old make and seemed precisely like 
this; the same caliber, a thirty-two.” 

“Have you ever seen this revolver, or one similar 
to it, in the Langham home previously?” The District 
Attorney glanced toward the defense, and Rowe 
smiled genially into his eyes. 

“One similar to it, yes.” Dr. Van Tuyl hesitated. 

“On what occasion?” 

“On more than one.” The doctor seemed to be 
searching his memory. “I should say on at least two 
or three different occasions some years ago. The one 
I saw at those times belonged to the late Mr. Dray¬ 
ton Langham.” 

“Will you describe the occasions, Doctor, on which 
you saw this revolver?” the District Attorney asked. 

“They were trivial. The first time I saw the re¬ 
volver similar to this in Mr. Langham’s possession 
was, I should say, about seven or eight years ago.” 
The doctor held with mild insistence to his point. “Mr. 

245 


246 Dust to Dust 

Langham was cleaning and reloading it when I stopped 
at his study door to speak to him after a professional 
call on the late Mrs. Langham for some minor ail¬ 
ment. There had been a burglar scare in the neigh¬ 
borhood.” 

There was no indication that the final sentence was 
an afterthought but Claudia realized his cautious in¬ 
tent. Then all at once her thoughts veered into a new 
channel. His mention of her mother recalled sharply 
that conversation with Uncle Matt in which she had 
learned for the first time the true history of that sealed 
room above her own. It had been Dr. Van Tuyl who 
cared for her unhappy mother through those two 
dreadful years; what did he think of Claudia herself 
now? Did he share the opinion which Uncle Matt 
had previously held and was he trying now to shield 
her? Once more that quiet, composed figure on the 
witness stand blurred before her eyes but his calmly 
reflective tones reached her distinctly as he continued: 

“A year or so later during the course of another 
chat with him in the study I saw the revolver lying 
among some papers in an open drawer of his desk, 
and I think I happened to see it again under similar 
conditions afterward, but I cannot be sure. I had for¬ 
gotten all about it until I saw the revolver lying be¬ 
side the body of Mr. Hamersley.” 

‘Ah, then you recalled it, naturally.” The Dis¬ 
trict Attorney paused once more weightily. “Did you 
take up the revolver and examine it?” 

“I moved it aside and examined the body first. Mr. 
Hamersley—had—died—instantly.” Dr. Van Tuyl 


Under Oath 247 

spoke without emphasis but very slowly. “Either of 
the injuries, the fracture of the spinal column at the 
base of the brain or the bullet wound in the head, would 
have produced instantaneous death.” 

“Doctor, from the location of the wound alone, 
would it have been remotely possible for Mr. Ha- 
mersley to have fired that shot himself?” 

Matthew Rowe frowned at the form of the ques¬ 
tion but did not speak and the witness drew himself 
up slightly in his chair. 

“Certainly!” 

“But not probable?” The question came quickly 
as though the doctor’s tone had expressed doubt but 
not as quickly as Rowe got upon his feet. 

“I object!” he thundered. “I object to the prose¬ 
cution’s flagrant attempt to lead the witness!” 

“I object to the use of the word ‘flagrant’ by the 
counsel for the defense!” the District Attorney coun¬ 
tered, and Rowe pounced upon his opportunity. 

“But not to the statement that you are trying to 
lead the witness, eh?—Your Honor—” 

“Objection sustained.” The gavel had descended 
and the Judge’s voice, almost mechanical in its sono¬ 
rous monotone, sounded clearly above the titters of 
the spectators which were as instantly hushed. 

The District Attorney bowed with an ironic smile. 

“If the revolver had been in Mr. Hamersley’s hand 
when the shot was fired could the bullet have entered 
behind his ear?” 

“Below it, where it actually did?” Th^re was no 
suggestion of correction in the doctor’s gently inquir- 


248 Dust to Dust 

ing tone. “If the elbow had sustained an impact se¬ 
vere enough to cause compound fracture—” 

“No theories please, Doctor, we are dealing with 
facts!” the District Attorney interrupted sharply. 
“How long had Mr. Hamersley been dead when you 
examined the body?” 

“I cannot say positively. Less than an hour; the 
body was still warm.” 

“What was said during or after your examination 
of the body? Please describe what took place as 
accurately as you can recall it.” 

“Annie was sighing and moaning to herself and 
wringing her hands, but the first words I remember 
after Mr. Rowe’s exclamation were when he asked 
me: ‘He’s gone, isn’t he, Doctor?’ I nodded and he 
said: ‘How awful for Mrs. Hamersley! I haven’t 
seen her yet and I cannot get any sense out of the 
servants! I can’t understand what he was fooling 
around with that old revolver for up in the attic, nor 
how he came to fall through the ceiling, but look at 
it!”’ 

“You distinctly heard the senior counsel for the de¬ 
fense utter those exact words?” the District Attorney 
demanded with telling emphasis. “You distinctly 
heard him advance the theory, even then, that Mr. 
Hamersley might have been ‘fooling around’ with the 
revolver?” 

Matthew Rowe started to rise but the doctor replied 
before he could move: 

“I distinctly heard Mr. Rowe express his entire 
ignorance of the situation in exactly those words.” 


Under Oath 249 

His tone now was so obviously bland that a faint stir 
came again from the jury box and the District At¬ 
torney’s lips tightened. His own accents were suspi¬ 
ciously courteous as he directed: 

“Go on, if you please, Doctor. Did you look up at 
the ceiling as requested?” 

“I had already glanced up there at the aperture but 
it hadn’t been necessary; the body itself and the floor 
all about it were littered with calcimine and plaster 
and pieces of lath. I asked Mr. Rowe if he had noti¬ 
fied the authorities and he said ‘no’ that he had only 
arrived a moment or so before me but he would call 
up the Department at once. Then Annie asked me if 
I wouldn’t come right away to Mrs. Hamersley; she 
said she was ‘near crazy,’ and maybe had fainted again. 
I accompanied her to my patient and Mr. Rowe joined 
us after a few minutes. Later I went downstairs to 
see the medical examiner and when he and Inspector 
Dawes had come and gone I went up to my patient 
once more before going home.” 

“Mrs. Hamersley was ill, then?” 

“She was suffering, naturally, from grief and shock.” 

The District Attorney shrugged and turned to 
Matthew Rowe. 

“Your witness,” he said. 

“Dr. Van Tuyl,” Rowe began genially, “did you 
make a thorough examination of the body of Mr. 
Hamersley?” 

“No. I ascertained that the spine was fractured 
and there had also been a compound fracture of the 
right arm, but I did not undress the body. I examined 


250 Dust to Dust 

the wound in the right mastoid just below the ear as 
thoroughly as possible without probing it.” 

“You have testified the revolver was ‘lying almost 
beneath Mr. Hamersley’s right hand.’ I should like 
particularly to call the attention of the gentlemen of 
the jury to the fact that there was a fracture—a com¬ 
pound fracture—of the right arm. Thank you, Doc¬ 
tor. That is all.” 

There was a murmur of astonishment at the brevity 
of Matthew Rowe’s interrogation but it was silenced 
by the voice of the clerk of the court. 

“Benjamin Vincent.” 

A lanky, nonchalant young man came forward with 
a sheepish grin toward the enclosure where the re¬ 
porters sat. 

“What is your profession, Mr. Vincent?” the Dis¬ 
trict Attorney began briskly. 

“Press photographer,” the witness responded laconi¬ 
cally. Asked where he had been on the date of the 
wedding he stated that he was outside the church, try¬ 
ing to get a snapshot of the bride for his paper, but 
the rain spoiled it. He had a train to make and he’d 
looked at his watch repeatedly, even comparing it with 
that of a bystander, while waiting for the bridal party 
to appear. The ceremony must have been delayed as 
usual, for it was exactly five minutes to one when the 
couple appeared and three minutes later the bride drove 
off alone and the groom walked away with another 
man who had come from the church. 

Turned over abruptly to Mr. Rowe, the latter per- 


Under Oath 251 

functorily questioned the accuracy of the witness’ 
watch and that of the bystander, to be assured that 
precisely on the minute the church clock itself had 
corroborated them. 

The jury, impatient for what might be coming, had 
no questions and the photographer left the stand as 
the District Attorney produced a railroad folder and 
submitted it in evidence. It was the summer schedule 
of Boston trains. 

“I wish to call the attention of the jury to the fact 
that on the date of the wedding there was a train leav¬ 
ing the station for Boston promptly at one o’clock, 
another at two, and another at three sharp. All on 
the hour! Kindly bear that in mind, gentlemen; these 
three of the afternoon trains for Boston left on the 
hour. Has the defense any objection?” 

The defense had none, and Jasper Phillips was 
called. He was a thickset individual with a bluish 
tinge about his jowls and described himself as a detec¬ 
tive lieutenant from headquarters. He had made an 
exhaustive inquiry in Boston and its suburbs, and could 
find no trace of the death of a “Henry Brown” having 
been reported to the health authorities between June 
fifteenth and July first. 

The defense made a vigorous but evidently half¬ 
hearted attempt to contest the infallibility of the re¬ 
ports and Claudia had no need to simulate startled 
concern. The Boston story was disproved precisely as 
Zorn had predicted it might be, and as she wondered 
how much more was to follow her pallid face gradu- 


252 Dust to Dust 

ally turned livid and waxen, and only the deep blue 
eyes glowed in their encircling shadows like living 
sapphires. 

Dreyer glanced at her appreciatively but Rowe was 
listening intently for the name of the next witness. 

“Harry Otten.” A muscular youth in a cheap suit 
of loud tweeds took oath with a swaggering air, and 
the prosecutor despite an objection from the defense 
placed in evidence a newspaper cutting depicting Niles 
Hamersley in riding attire. 

“You are a taxi driver?” 

“Sure. Got my own bus over in Newark.” 

“Do you recognize the man in this photograph?” 

“Yep—yessir! That’s the guy I drove from my 
stand on Broad Street over to New York on the day 
after the big wedding. That’s Hamersley, all right. 
I drove him to the very house he got killed in not 
an hour afterwards!” The young man paused, glanc¬ 
ing about the court room to note the effect of his sen¬ 
sation, and then repeated. “Yes, sir! To the very 
same address that all the papers had the next day!” 

“You recognize this man as the one you drove from 
Newark to the Langham house on the afternoon Mr. 
Hamersley—was—killed.” The phraseology of his 
witness had given the District Attorney an opportun¬ 
ity he had long awaited. “On what grounds do you 
state it as a fact that your fare was Mr. Hamersley 
himself?” 

“Ain’t I telling you?” demanded the injured Mr. 
Otten. “Don’t I know him in that picture even if the 
name’s torn off? There was pictures of him in all the 


Under Oath 253 

papers right after it happened and again when the— 
the lady was took up, and you could’ve knocked me for 
a gool when I first see ’em!” 

Matthew Rowe interposed an objection once more 
and again he was over-ruled. 

“When did you first see the man you identify as 
Mr. Hamersley?” 

“Around three o’clock that afternoon. He got out 
of a big green Blynton car with a Pennsy license on it 
that a little dark feller was driving—just the two of 
them was in it—and went into a drug-store on the 
corner while the green car beat it. After a while he 
came out and over to me and asked if I was engaged, 
as if he couldn’t see my flag. He seemed kind of wor¬ 
ried looking, but he was all got up swell; high top lid 
and a frock coat and gray trousers and spats! There 
hadn’t been nothing like him loose in Newark in my 
time, and that’s how I come to lamp him in the first 
place, and the new-model Blynton he’d got out of. 
When I said I wasn’t busy he told me he wanted to go 
to New York, giving me the address of the Langham 
house, and made me put up my top, though it was 
hotter’n blazes. 

“It didn’t seem jake to me, him not trying to make 
a rate nor nothing, but he looked good for whatever 
I might charge and we started. I glanced back a 
couple of times through the open window behind my 
seat and there he sat with his mitts crossed on top of 
his cane, sort of chewing his lips and scowling, and he 
never took any notice of me at all, nor the way we was 
going. The last time I give him a flash before we got 


254 Dust to Dust 

to the ferry he was looking over some papers he’d 
took out of his pocket, tearing up a few and throwing 
the pieces out of the window. 

“I got him to the house all right after a little engine 
trouble and without asking me my fare he hands me 
two ten dollar bills and tells me I needn’t wait. I 
didn’t, either, but I wished I had the next day when 
the papers come out! If that guy was alive now I’d 
know him anywheres, and that’s straight!” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE STAR WITNESS 

C LAUDIA had been listening with an uncon¬ 
sciously shocked expression. How easily the 
police had traced Niles’ movements for that 
hour at any rate!—Yet they hadn’t been able to locate 
Zorn! Stephen had succeeded where they failed; 
would he succeed now in helping to wrest her from 
their mistaken grasp? He had said that she might 
not have to “win on a lie” after all; did he mean that 
perhaps she would not be compelled to go on the stand 
with her story, perjure herself? What grim irony it 
would seem that she, who had committed no crime, 
should be forced to do so now in order to save her¬ 
self from this false charge! 

Matthew Rowe in cross-examination made a brief 
but spirited attack on the validity of the witness’s testi¬ 
mony, seeking to trap and confuse him, but the young 
man adhered stubbornly to his facts and could not be 
shaken. The attorney sat down with a crest-fallen air 
although now he cast a quick, reassuring glance at 
Claudia but the girl was unconscious of it. Slowly but 
surely the ground seemed to be slipping away from be¬ 
neath her feet, for the jury now knew that “Henry 
Brown” was a myth and the Boston story a fabrication 
—but whose? Would they believe her in the final 
analysis to have been blindly credulous of her hus- 
255 


256 Dust to Dust 

band’s excuse or the desperate prevaricator caught in 
the meshes of her own specious lie?—Still, there re¬ 
mained Stephen! 

“Andrew Clark!” As the clerk called the name the 
District Attorney turned not to the witness stand but 
directly to face the prisoner, and for a long moment he 
eyed her with such marked, stern significance that the 
gaze of the jury followed his and Claudia was aware 
of the battery of curious, anticipatory glances, too, 
from all about her. Andrew? The name had a 
vaguely familiar sound, somehow, but she couldn’t 
quite recall— 

At that moment an exceedingly plump youth with a 
stiff, upstanding pompadour of coarse blond hair ad¬ 
vanced sheepishly to the witness chair, and she looked 
at him with a little puzzled frown until slowly recogni¬ 
tion came. Why, he was the butcher’s boy! She had 
seen him at rare intervals approaching or leaving the 
tradesman’s entrance of the house, and had given him 
a substantial gift at Christmas with her own hands, as 
had been her father’s custom before her with all who 
served him. What possible information could he have 
to disclose? The District Attorney’s portentous stare 
would seem to argue that he was a find for the prose¬ 
cution, but why? 

Beneath her surprised regard the boy wiggled un¬ 
easily, his round, vacuous face flushing and pendulous 
lower lip sagging more and more, but the District At¬ 
torney turned to him at last and spoke in a brisk, re¬ 
assuring tone. 


The Star Witness 257 

“Now, Andy, how long have you worked for Wil¬ 
liam Samp, the butcher?” 

“Three y-years, sir,” stammered Andy. “Since I 
1-left school; he’s m-my uncle.” 

“All right, but let us go very slowly now; just answer 
each question as I ask it. Have you ever been to Mrs. 
Hamersley’s home, known as the Langham house?” 

“Uh-huh!” The boy looked his surprise at the 
question and started to speak again but remembered 
the warning in time. 

“How often have you gone there?” 

“Every d-day, when Miss Langham—Mrs. Ha- 
mersley was in the city.” His flush deepened painfully 
as he spoke her name and for a moment he hung his 
head. Why did he seem ashamed to face her? He 
had always appeared to be a good-natured but stupid 
boy, frequently making mistakes as Annie had com¬ 
plained— But the prosecutor had continued quickly: 

“Mrs. Hamersley traded with your uncle and you 
brought the orders to her house?” 

Andrew nodded, then added conscientiously: 

“Not her. It was Miss Booth did the ordering but 
she paid the bills.” 

“Was a bill paid just before her marriage?” 

“Yes, sir; the day before, after I’d taken the last 
order there.—That’s why I thought it was funny, 
too—” He checked himself abruptly and the Dis¬ 
trict Attorney ignored the unfinished remark. 

“Did no further orders come, then?” 

“Yes, on the day after the wedding.” 


258 Dust to Dust 

“Where were you on the wedding day itself, at the 
time the ceremony was taking place in the church?” 

“On the sidewalk in the crowd, rubbering to see 
them come out,” Andy replied ingenuously. 

“You did see them?” 

“Uh-huh. I seen the other man come out, too, and 
Mr. Hamersley go off with him and I thought it was 
awful funny. I don’t read good, but I heard my uncle 
talking in the store the next afternoon about what had 
been in the paper; that Mr. Hamersley’d been called 
away right from the church but they’d met and gone 
away on their trip afterwards.” 

Matthew Rowe objected at this point but the quiet, 
inexorable voice of the judge admitted the response in 
evidence and the District Attorney with a smile went 
on: 

“You heard your uncle say this to a customer?” 

“Nope, to the cashier, and right away come the 
telephone call.” 

“What telephone call?” 

“From Annie Booth, and the butler’d told me she 
was going away with Mrs. Hamersley on the wedding 
trip, and he’d be alone in the house for the rest of the 
summer. The order wasn’t only just what him and 
Annie would eat, either—broilers and new peas and 
raspberries—and I kind of thought the newspaper 
had it wrong and maybe they was home after all. It 
looked kind of funny—” Andy reiterated almost 
apologetically and the prosecutor nodded. 

“You were curious, naturally. Did you take this 
order to Mrs. Hamersley’s house?” 


The Star Witness 


259 


“Yes, sir.” 

“At what time?” 

“Pretty near five o’clock. It was after half past 
four when I left the store and I had another order 
to deliver first.” His voice had sunk lower and with 
growing uneasiness he averted his shamed eyes. 

“You went to the tradesman’s entrance?” 

“Yes. I knocked and knocked but nobody came; 
the bell didn’t seem to work.” 

“What did you do then?” 

“The door kind of swung open and I went on in. 
There wasn’t anybody in the kitchen nor the pantry 
and I put the order down on the table, then I thought 
maybe I’d better not leave it there without letting 
George know on account of the door being open. I 
didn’t want to holler in case the—the folks was home 
and I’d scare ’em, so—so I went on through the pantry 
and—and out into the hall leading to the front.” 

In the front hall—just before five! The court 
room swam before Claudia’s sick vision and a hideous 
qualm swept over her. What might this boy have 
heard from behind the closed drawing-room door? 
Had he witnessed her flight and Niles’ enraged pur¬ 
suit? Was her story to be proven false before she 
took the stand? 

She dared not look at her counsel, but at this point 
Dreyer excused himself and withdrew unobtrusively 
from the room. Where had he gone? Was it for 
information, anything to offset what this dreadful boy 
might be about to divulge? Most of the jurors were 
on the edge of their chairs, the blase press stand had 


260 Dust to Dust 

taken on new signs of alert interest and the spectators 
were breathless and absorbed. 

But the District Attorney, fostering the suspense 
until Dreyer, his personal adversary of many former 
cases, should reappear, switched for the moment his 
line of questioning. 

“Andy, had you ever seen Mr. Hamersley before he 
came from the church beside his bride?” 

“No, sir.” The youth was evidently prepared for 
that question at some stage for he replied readily 
enough and then stopped. 

“Had you ever heard his voice?” 

“Yes. I was leaving the order in the kitchen one 
afternoon about a month before the wedding and 
somebody came into the pantry and called to know if 
George was there; that Miss Langham had rung 
twice. I didn’t see who it was but the cook answered 
him and then she told me that was Mr. Hamersley, 
the gentleman who was going to marry Miss Lang¬ 
ham.” 

Quincey Dreyer had slipped quietly back into the 
court room during the latter part of this response and 
as he seated himself the District Attorney threw back 
his shoulders as though about to launch himself into 
a charge. 

“You remembered Mr. Hamersley’s voice?” 

“Yes. I guess because of who he was, and then it 
was different; kind of like an actor’s. I’d know it if 
I was to hear it now.” 

“Very good.—Now, on the day following the Ha¬ 
mersley wedding what happened after you left the 


The Star Witness 261 

order in the kitchen of the Hamersley house and went 
through the pantry to the hall leading toward the 
front?” 

“I went along it a little ways wondering if I’d bet¬ 
ter sing out for George or take the order back to the 
store again, when all at once I heard voices, people 
talking. Two of them there was, a man and a woman.” 
His tones were lower still and he spoke jerkily as 
though the words were being forced from him. 

“Did you recognize those two voices, Andy?” 

“Yes, sir, I did. It was Miss Langham—Mrs. Ha¬ 
mersley, I mean—and Mr. Hamersley!” 

A rustle like the first stirring of wind before a storm 
pervaded the court room for a moment and died, and 
the prosecutor asked with deepened intensity: 

“You are positive of that? You are sure that the 
voices you heard were those of Mrs. Hamersley and 
her husband?” 

“Yes, sir, I know it! There wasn’t any mistake!” 

“Did you hear what was said?” 

“Not all of it; only when they spoke louder, I did; 
that is, to make out the words. I’d hear a little and 
then they’d go on talking, and pretty soon I’d get a 
little more. They was both awful mad, though!” 

He spoke now with a note of sullen defiance and the 
District Attorney gazed deliberately at the prisoner 
once more and then at the jury as though mutely call¬ 
ing their attention. It had come then! Claudia sat 
motionless and rigid, her eyes seeming to burn into the 
loutish figure on the stand. From a quarter little 
dreamed of had come the testimony to destroy her! 


262 Dust to Dust 

“What did you hear, Andy? I want you to tell the 
court every actual word you heard whether they make 
any sense to you or not.—Don’t add anything you may 
have thought you heard, remember, but only what you 
can swear was said.—Now, what were the first words 
that came to your ears and who spoke them?” 

“Mrs. Hamersley. She was talking lower but all 
at once she kind of raised her voice and said: . . 

but when he followed us to the car and spoke again 
what he said made you afraid! There was abject, 
cowardly fear in your face—and guilt!’ ” 

A woman’s voice cried out shrilly among the specta¬ 
tors and there came once more a smothered exclama¬ 
tion from the jury box but the District Attorney di¬ 
rected in a carefully modulated monotone: 

“Go on ” 

“I didn’t know who she was talking to till a man’s 
voice said: ‘What do you mean?’ It was Mr. Ha¬ 
mersley, all right, and then I knew they must be speak¬ 
ing of the man he’d gone away with from the church 
door the day before and I—I listened! I didn’t mean 
any harm; anybody could have heard ’em! Mrs. Ha¬ 
mersley said: ‘I mean that I must know the truth!’ 
—Then something I didn’t get, and then: ‘You have 
taken from me a name that has been proud and hon¬ 
ored for generations. What have you given me in its 
place?”’ 

Andy spoke slowly, the words coming from his 
lips in odd incongruity with his own vernacular having 
all the more telling effect. The court room was spell¬ 
bound, the jury rigid as figures carved of stone and 


263 


The Star Witness 

only in the press enclosure a feverish but subdued ac¬ 
tivity prevailed as the reporters scribbled in mad 
haste. 

“What else did you hear?” 

“Nothing for a couple of minutes; they was talking, 
but not so loud. Then Mr. Hamersley sort of 
groaned: ‘Claudia, don’t look at me like that! There 
is nothing in the past which can come between us!’ 
Mrs. Hamersley told him:—‘It has already!’ Then 
something else and the next I heard that she said was: 
—‘It has changed you in my eyes and you are not the 
man I cared for. All that is over!’ He said some¬ 
thing to her quiet and after that for the longest time 
I couldn’t get a word, just their voices! I was afraid 
any minute George or that Annie would come down¬ 
stairs and find me, and just when I thought maybe I’d 
have to beat it without hearing any more Mr. Ha¬ 
mersley shouted: ‘. . . you promised to me yesterday 
before the altar? Do you think you can cheat me of 
it now?’ They was talking behind a closed door and 
I’d got up real close to it trying to hear, but now the 
voices stopped and there was a kind of a scurry inside, 
and then Mrs. Hamersley cried out:—‘You beast!— 
You’—something—‘horrible beast!’ I turned then 
and beat it back to the pantry, and it was lucky I did, 
for somebody tore open that door I’d been listening 
at and went flying up the stairs. I guess it was Mrs. 
Hamersley, but I didn’t stop to look, I just kept right 
on going, through the kitchen and out the delivery 
door. That’s all. I told my uncle the next day when 
it come out that Mr. Hamersley was dead, and he said 


264 Dust to Dust 

I wasn’t to say nothing to anybody on account of Mrs. 
Hamersley being such a good customer. I wish I 
hadn’t, but all the fellers was talking and when that 
other guy come around I didn’t know he was from the 
police!” 

There was a pause for a long minute and then the 
prosecutor demanded: 

“You swear to every word of this, Andy? Every 
word of this is true?” 

“Every word, sir! I told it to the fellers so many 
times I got it all by heart.” 

“The defendant’s witness.” The District Attorney 
turned ironically, and a glint came into his eyes as in¬ 
stead of Matthew Rowe, Dreyer arose. 

“Andy,” he began in an easy, confidential tone, 
“how many times were you arrested by the truant 
officers?” 

The witness gasped and then replied surlily: 

“Only twice.” 

“You delivered papers for a stationer while you 
were going to school. What did he have you taken to 
the station house for?” 

“He didn’t!—Any way I wasn’t arrested that time!” 
Andy exhibited signs of alarm. “I—there was some 
money missing from the cash register—1” 

“Oh, yes, but somebody paid it back, didn’t he? 
Who was it?” 

“My uncle!—I ain’t going to answer any more—!” 

“Oh, yes, you are! What did your uncle call you 
only this morning when you denied giving short change 
to a customer?” 


The Star Witness 265 

“I—I don’t remember!” The boy’s flushed face 
had turned a pasty gray and his pudgy hands were 
clenching and unclenching on his knees. 

“Yet you pretend, under oath, that you can recall 
what two people said to each other behind a closed 
door weeks ago? Two people you didn’t see and one 
of whom you had only heard speak once, a month 
before? Shall we get your uncle here to tell us what 
he called you? He’s waiting!” 

“He—he said I was a good-for-nothing liar and a 
thief!” Andy blurted out and Dreyer shrugged. 

“That’s all.” 

Claudia could scarcely believe her ears. In four 
questions her wizard of an associate counsel had ut¬ 
terly discredited the prosecution’s star witness with¬ 
out touching on the evidence!—Still, of what avail , 
could it be? Thief and liar the boy might be, but his 
story had held the ring of truth and she knew that 
nothing could erase it from the minds of the men who 
were sitting in judgment upon her. She could never 
take the stand now, her last defenses had crumbled, 
she was lost! 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE JURY DECIDES 


S the afternoon passed and witness after wit¬ 



ness had succeeded each other on the stand 


Claudia’s torturing suspense grew until she 
could almost have screamed aloud. Why did no word 
come from Stephen? He said Zorn had given him till 
eight o’clock to pay but he had promised to send word 
to the courtroom and that argued that he intended to 
see the blackmailer before the afternoon session closed. 
She glanced in an agony of mute questioning to her at¬ 
torneys from time to time but they appeared to have 
forgotten Stephen and his mission completely and she 
dared not address them. 

Court was adjourned at last and still no message 
had come. Claudia returned to her cell and there 
paced the floor desperately. The boy Andrew had 
been branded as a liar but his testimony had not been 
refuted and her own knowledge of its absolute truth 
made her feel unstable in her judgment as to how it 
might have impressed the jurors. 

If Zorn refused at the last moment to deal with 
Stephen and went to the authorities, his story would 
give the last touches of verisimilitude to Andrew’s tale! 
She felt that she heard the terrible words ringing now 
in her ears that would command that she be tried for 
her life! 


266 


The Jury Decides 267 

Just as the depths of uttermost despair yawned be¬ 
fore her she was summoned to the telephone, how¬ 
ever, and Matthew Rowe’s fatherly tones fell like 
balm upon her spirit. Stephen had reported that 
everything was well! 

The words were guarded, she knew, because of the 
open wire, but their meaning was unmistakable, and 
she went back to her cell with the greatest apprehen¬ 
sion lifted definitely from her thoughts. Now, if only 
Andrew’s story was not believed, surely she would be 
free to-morrow! 

In her cell once more Claudia walked up and down 
restlessly until long after all lights had been put out 
except the low glow from the corridor. What had 
Stephen meant about the revolver? What sudden in¬ 
spiration had come to him? Just as that haunting 
foreboding had possessed her until that message from 
Uncle Matt, so now faith and an abiding hope glowed 
within her like a living flame! 

Stephen had not failed her and he would not fail 
her now, but a force greater, irresistible, held her in its 
power, and Stephen too! The wretched Zorn had 
been swayed by it and Niles Hamersley had been a 
mere atom in its grasp, his puny potentiality for evil 
given a little rein and then crushed! That same force 
was at work at this hour—it had sent to Stephen’s 
mind an impulse beyond her divination there in the 
council room and to-morrow its will should be made 
manifest. 

The morning brought a heavy storm of rain which 
beat down in a steady torrent upon the world out- 


268 Dust to Dust 

side and a humid, acrid odor as of steam permeated 
the court room as Claudia entered and took her place 
once more. Her glance sweeping the spectators dis¬ 
covered Mrs. Yates, damp but determinedly cheerful, 
and in the row just behind her Dicky Tewson caught 
her eye. He nodded deliberately with an enigmatic 
smile and a tiny glow of annoyance mounted in her wan 
cheeks as with no sign of recognition she looked above 
and beyond him, but her search was unsuccessful; 
Stephen was not there. 

Dreyer appeared as nonchalant as ever as he 
greeted her and Rowe as calmly paternal, but Claudia 
detected beneath his urbanity a shade of self-conscious¬ 
ness as though he were endeavoring to veil from her 
some inner emotion, and a little thrill of excitement 
ran through her. Was he going to produce Stephen 
himself when the moment came? 

The ascetic, inscrutable face of the judge looked 
down from behind his high desk but somehow the 
bloodless, waxen countenance seemed a shade more 
animate and in the meditative gaze a gentleness 
brooded. Was it only because hope filled her heart 
that he appeared more human and kindly? 

She had avoided the eyes of the jurymen on the pre¬ 
vious day, not in fear or confusion but in a proud aver¬ 
sion to the thought that some one of them might mis¬ 
read appeal in her glance. Now she regarded them 
each in turn with a calmly impersonal gaze. 

Her thoughts turned upon Stephen again and it 
was some little time before she was aware that a 
change had come in the course of the procedure, for 


The Jury Decides 269 

now it was Matthew Rowe who was calling a witness! 
Had the authorities already exhausted their testimony 
against her and was it now the province of her own 
attorneys to defend? 

“If the court pleases,” Uncle Matt began benignly. 
“The State has already called most of our witnesses 
for us.” 

A half hysterical titter of laughter from the spec¬ 
tators greeted this sally, and he waited with a faint, 
indulgent smile. 

When silence was restored he turned once more to 
the bench. 

“The defense has only one witness to offer—” 

“Ah-h!” The sibilant echo died away behind her 
and Claudia’s heart sank. Surely Uncle Matt would 
not be mad enough to call her after all in her own de¬ 
fense! She could tell only the truth now, and who 
would believe—? 

“Mr. Justin Irwin.” 

The name, utterly strange to her, fell on her ears 
with stunning force, scattering her thoughts like chaff. 
In sheer stupefaction she watched the erect, keen-eyed, 
soldierly looking man of middle age who advanced with 
well-bred ease and took his place. The defense had 
only one witness, Uncle Matt had said; she was to be 
spared, but who was this unknown? What had he to 
do with her and how could he prevent the blind mis¬ 
carriage of justice which threatened? Yet somehow, 
as she looked into his alert, purposeful face a little 
tingling glow of confidence stirred within her and she 
drew a quivering breath. 


270 


Dust to Dust 

“Mr. Irwin, what is your business?” 

“I am the president of the Irwin Arms Company, of 
Rochester.” 

“What do you manufacture?” 

“Automatic pistols, rifles, ammunition and sundries.” 
His voice was low but carrying and he clipped each 
word short with a crisp enunciation which rendered 
it distinct to the far corners of the court room. 

“What is your chief article of manufacture?” 

“The Irwin automatic.” 

“Who invented it, Mr. Irwin?” 

“I did,” acknowledged the witness in his clear mat¬ 
ter-of-fact tones. 

“Do you know anything about revolvers?” The 
seeming naivete of this question addressed to the in¬ 
ventor of the celebrated automatic brought another 
little stir as of amusement from the spectators but the 
witness replied gravely: 

“I think I can claim to be somewhat of an authority 
on them.” 

Matthew Rowe took up the revolver which had been 
submitted in evidence and presented it. 

“Are you familiar with this type of weapon?” 

“Perfectly.” The witness examined it with sure, 
accustomed hands. “I was in the employ of Sims & 
Waters, the makers of this revolver, at the time of its 
manufacture.” 

“In what capacity were you employed by them?” 

“As an expert, to pass upon their finished product.” 

“Have you held any government position?” 


The Jury Decides 271 

“Yes. A similar one, to pass upon automatics sup¬ 
plied to the army.” 

“When was your own company formed?” 

“Just after I resigned from the government posi¬ 
tion.” 

“Does your company supply anything now to the 
government?” 

“Yes. Automatics and various sundries.” 

“So that your company may be said to manufacture 
the standard article in small-arms?” 

“Yes.” 

“And you are recognized as a qualified expert?” 

The witness bowed. 

“Very well. In your estimation, Mr. Irwin, is that 
revolver which you hold in your hand an average speci¬ 
men of the product of the Sims & Waters Company?” 

“At the time of its manufacture, yes. There have 
been several changes, improvements, but this type will 
always be in demand.” 

“Have you seen this particular revolver before?” 

“Yes.” 

“When?” 

“This morning, in the office of the District Attorney. 
It was by the courtesy of an Assistant District Attor¬ 
ney that I was permitted to do so.” 

“Did you make a thorough examination of it?” 

“Yes.” 

“You know that it is the weapon submitted in evi¬ 
dence as that which caused the death of Niles Ha- 
mersley ?” 


272 Dust to Dust 

“I do. n The gravity in the witness’ tone had 
deepened. 

“In normal circumstances, would it be possible for 
a man to fire a shot from this revolver?” 

“ ‘In normal circumstances’ ?” the witness repeated. 
“No, sir. Not unless he were an abnormal man.” 

A chair creaked in the jury box, and the District 
Attorney stared at the man on the stand with a gath¬ 
ering frown. Claudia gasped and the glow of hope 
mounted higher, tingling through her veins. Stephen 
had done this! It was the result of that quick mem¬ 
ory which had returned to him in the council room on 
the previous afternoon, but yet—what did it mean? 
Why could no normal man have fired that revolver? 
Surely it had been in Niles’ hand when the bullet from 
it penetrated his brain! 

“Mr. Irwin, in your estimation would it be possible 
for any woman, no matter what the circumstances, to 
have discharged that revolver?” 

The District Attorney sprang to his feet with an 
objection, but again Rowe addressed the court. 

“Your honor, the only point at issue in this case is 
whether or not my client, this woman, shot her hus¬ 
band with this revolver. The evidence which I am 
endeavoring to bring out is strictly pertinent to this 
issue.” 

In the same sonorous monotone as that in which he 
had rendered his former decisions the Judge over¬ 
ruled the District Attorney and the latter seated him¬ 
self with a grim, fighting light in his eyes. 


273 


The Jury Decides 

“Mr. Irwin, would it be possible for any woman 
to have fired a shot from this revolver?” 

“It would not, sir! It would not be possible for 
any human being to fire a shot from this revolver un¬ 
less that person were abnormally strong, with a 
strength unknown in the history of mankind or except 
under one condition.” 

“Will you name that condition?” 

“If the hand holding the revolver, or the arm to 
which it were attached, suffered some extreme con¬ 
cussion, such a concussion as would shatter the bones 
of a normal human being.” 

The District Attorney’s roar of objection was lost 
in the sudden pandemonium which broke loose. The 
murmur among the spectators swelled to a confused 
babel of sound as the true significance of what they had 
just heard dawned upon them, and a woman sobbed 
wildly in shrill, hysterical relief. Even the judge him¬ 
self was unable to gain attention at first and only his 
threat to clear the court room produced a semblance 
of order once more. 

Claudia herself could scarcely grasp what was going 
forward. Her dazed brain groped still for enlighten¬ 
ment and she turned instinctively to sweep the jury 
with her eyes. She could tell that they were excited, 
astounded at the sudden turn of events but they were 
not convinced. Would the mere opinion of one man, 
expert though he might be on a single technical point, 
outweigh the strong circumstantial evidence against her 
when they came to analyze the testimony? 


274 Dust to Dust 

“Mr. Irwin, on what do you base your statement 
that this revolver could only be discharged if the hand 
or arm which controlled it were subjected to a con¬ 
cussion sufficiently violent to shatter the bones?” 
Rowe asked when order had been restored at last. 

“Time, disuse, perhaps some sharp blow in the past 
have injured the mechanism of the trigger. It is stuck, 
jammed in such a way that only phenomenal strength 
combined with a terrific jar could pull it,” the expert 
responded. “I am explaining this in as simple a man¬ 
ner as I can, sir. Reduced to its lowest dimensions, 
the fingers of no human being, man or woman, could 
move it a hair’s breadth unless they were contracted 
convulsively in some sudden reaction with a force 
greater than human strength, and unless at the same 
instant the revolver sustained a jolt of the utmost 
violence. Only these two agents, acting simultaneously, 
could by any remote possibility discharge a shot from 
this revolver!” 

The tumult broke forth afresh and a wrangle en¬ 
sued which lasted until the noon recess. Claudia was 
so weak from the emotions which had surged over her 
that she could scarcely rise from her chair, and she 
made her way from the court room with slow, feeble 
steps but her spirit burned strong within her. The re¬ 
volver itself, which had brought all this fearful suffer¬ 
ing and tragedy upon her, was the silent but eloquent 
witness to her innocence! 

But would the jury believe? During an intermi¬ 
nable hour, as her physical vigor reasserted itself, 
Claudia paced the floor of her cell. She recalled now 


The Jury Decides 275 

that during the hubbub before she left the court room 
Mr. Dreyer had said something to her about this not 
being the end, that the authorities would of course 
bring their experts in rebuttal. It had meant nothing 
to her at the time, but now she realized that if Irwin’s 
testimony could be shaken an iota, if the shadow of a 
doubt could be cast upon it and his first impression 
erased or even dulled upon the minds of the jury the 
reaction would swing the weight of their opinion 
against her like the changing tides. 

She was not aware that the weather had cleared 
until a thin beam of sunlight shot through the bars of 
her tiny window, slanting down upon her. In its path¬ 
way tiny particles of dust floated like specks of gold. 
Claudia watched them with a dull fascinated gaze. 
Why should dust, of one sort or another, have figured 
with such telling effect, such dreadful, sardonic signifi¬ 
cance in every crucial moment of this strange series of 
events ? 

The dust which had risen like smoke from a funeral 
pyre when Niles Hamersley plunged to his death, the 
pollen—dust of the flowers in her drawing-room— 
which had adhered to Zorn’s face when he bent to in¬ 
hale their fragrance and later betrayed to George’s 
keen old eyes that their visitor had strayed from the 
room to which he had been ushered on his first call, 
the powder that had settled like a white cloud of dust 
upon him when she hurled the jar at his skulking fig¬ 
ure in her doorway that night—how vividly it all came 
back to her! 

Then there had been the dust—or rather the ab- 


276 Dust to Dust 

sence of it—on that one book out of all the volumes on 
the shelf in the library which Uncle Matt had been 
surreptitiously glancing over and that had confirmed 
her apprehension of his suspicions as to her sanity! 

Of what were these little glittering flecks dancing 
before her in the sunbeam a harbinger? What had 
this mysterious force, this strange power that con¬ 
trolled her destiny, in store for her? 

When the guard came for her she followed me¬ 
chanically over the Bridge of Sighs to the court room. 
What would it be like to cross that narrow causeway 
for the last time, to know that ahead of her lay free¬ 
dom or the shadow of eternal bars, the stark horror of 
the chair, itself! 

Her face was rigid and set when she encountered her 
attorneys in the anteroom, but a blotch of color lay 
like a smudge of blood in each sunken cheek and her 
eyes glowed feverishly. 

“My dear Claudia!” Matthew Rowe exclaimed in 
quick concern. “You are overwrought, unstrung! You 
must not break down now, child, when the battle is 
almost won!” 

“I shall not break down, Uncle Matt, until the 
suspense is over,” she replied with quiet assurance and 
turned to his colleague. “Mr. Dreyer, the case will 
go to the jury to-day?” 

“Unless the prosecution asks for an adjournment 
in order to gather a battalion of experts to combat 
the testimony of Justin Irwin.” Dreyer shrugged. 
“His name alone is enough to carry weight against 
every master-at-arms in the country, though, and it 


The Jury Decides 277 

was sheer luck that Steve Munson remembered about 
that old revolver in time. If it weren’t for that we’d 
be in a pretty tight place now, after the testimony of 
that young blackguard yesterday.” 

“But how quickly you did prove him a—er—a 
blackguard!” Claudia smiled faintly. “How you 
discovered those things about Andy Clark in the few 
minutes you were out of the court room—” 

“His uncle gave them all to me in practically one 
sentence when I called him up and told him his promis¬ 
ing nephew was down here trying to swear away the 
life of his best customer!” Dreyer gave one of his 
infrequent laughs, and then added with a swift return 
to gravity. “You’ll have a long and tiresome ordeal 
before you, Mrs. Hamersley, while the experts 
wrangle!” 

Once again his prediction proved correct, for 
throughout the afternoon experts gathered in hot haste 
by the District Attorney followed each other upon the 
witness stand to dispute the opinion of Justin Irwin. 
Claudia was soon in hopeless despair. The testimony 
had become so confused in her mind that she doubted 
if the jury could come to a decision on the technical 
points on which such a wide divergence of opinion ex¬ 
isted, and when the oratorical smoke of battle had 
cleared away she was sunk in the lowest depths of de¬ 
spondency. 

While the shadows lengthened she did not hear a 
word of what was uttered in the final summing up of 
evidence but she lifted her head slowly as the judge 
rose. Was there an added sternness in that austere 


278 Dust to Dust 

face, a glint of accusation, of dread condemnation in 
those cold somber eyes? 

She could not know that he was merely expound¬ 
ing to the jury the limitations of their power. When 
he concluded with a solemn exhortation to them to 
consider well the evidence placed before them accord¬ 
ing to their lights, Claudia turned with a little shudder 
toward the council table. Matthew Rowe smiled at 
her, and Dreyer nodded encouragingly, but she scarcely 
saw; the slight movement had been instinctive, a reach¬ 
ing out to those who had defended her, but now, as the 
jury filed slowly out she turned once more and gazed 
after their departing figures. What would they mete 
out to her, these men from all walks of life who had 
been gathered together to decide her fate? What 
would their faces tell her when next she saw them? 

The guard led her into the anteroom and here her 
attorneys joined her, Matthew Rowe almost aggres¬ 
sively buoyant and Dreyer quiet and subdued. Claudia 
tried to thank them both for their efforts on her behalf 
but Quincey Dreyer waved her attempt aside. 

“We’ve seen the last sizzling rocket of the fire¬ 
works, Mrs. Hamersley. It was Mr. Rowe who set 
off the whole powder train!” 

“Oh, I know! I owe everything to Uncle Matt! 
Even if—if they convict me—” 

“Nonsense, child!” Rowe cleared his throat lust¬ 
ily. “It’s all over now! There can’t be any doubt 
left in the minds of the jury after Justin Irwin ex¬ 
ploded that bombshell of Stephen’s. It may be just 
a few minutes or an hour or so, but you’ll hear them 


The Jury Decides 279 

tell you that your old Uncle Matt can take you home, 
never fear!” 

The crawling minutes crept into an hour, however, 
then two, and three and the evening was growing late 
when in the end the summons came. Claudia’s tor¬ 
ment of suspense had given place to a dull lethargy, 
but now she started up, white to the lips. 

“Come, dear.” Uncle Matt spoke with an odd 
crack in his voice. “Steady now! Don’t be the first 
Langham to weaken when the test comes! Just one 
little minute of effort—to hear two little words—” 

His voice failed him, but Claudia had not heard. 
The strange, added pallor which had come made her 
face almost unearthly in its beauty as with slow, un¬ 
faltering steps she took her place for the last time in 
the court room. 

Murmurs, rustlings, an undertone of emotional ex¬ 
citement trembling in the balance between laughter 
and tears ran through the dense throng like a strain 
played upon loose, jangling keys. Claudia sensed it 
rather than heard for the jury was filing in and she 
turned and faced them. 

It had come at last! The supreme moment for 
which she had waited through weary, dragging days 
and tense hours of agony unspeakable! Her eyes 
fastened themselves upon the portentously grave coun¬ 
tenances of the jurymen with anguished uncertainty but 
she could read nothing! What would their decision 
be? 

The cold, implacable voice of the judge echoed her 
unspoken thought but with an intonation which carried 


280 


Dust to Dust 

the chill of death itself to her heart, and the low, 
modulated tones of the foreman’s reply seemed to hold 
a warning of the doom which might be in store for her. 
Claudia held her breath and then faintly as though 
from a great distance vague words beat upon her sud¬ 
denly dulled brain. 

“Not guilty . . She was free! 


CHAPTER XX 


THE RETURN 

I T was mid-August before Claudia, a frail, wan 
ghost of her former self, began to wander about 
the old house and pause now and then to glance 
half-fearfully, half-wistfully from behind the curtains 
of the windows. 

For weeks she had lain in an inertia which bordered 
on semi-stupor, speaking only when some anxiously 
voiced question was urgent enough to demand an an¬ 
swer, and then with an almost painful effort as though 
her thoughts were wandering. Dr. Van Tuyl shook 
his head gravely over her and held many a troubled 
consultation with Matthew Rowe. Both urged a 
change for her, fearing that the atmosphere of the 
house recalled too sharply the recent tragic memories, 
but Claudia shrank in something like horror from the 
suggestion and they were forced to leave it to time to 
heal the wound. 

When at last she left her bed of her own volition 
they were reassured, but she still refused to see any 
one or even discuss the future. 

“I don’t understand it!” Matthew Rowe exclaimed 
one day to the physician. “You say her mind is abso¬ 
lutely untouched and surely if it could withstand the 
shock and strain of this fearful experience there is no 
trace of a possible taint, yet it seems to me as if it had 
281 


282 Dust to Dust 

stopped functioning. Not that she does not reply 
lucidly and intelligently to any questions put to her in 
regard to financial matters and the settling of the 
estate, but she has to be prompted, goaded. She lives 
and moves mechanically, obeying like a marionette 
when some one pulls the strings! If only something 
would rouse her!” 

“She is like some one who has received a shocking 
physical blow that has numbed her; the pain when it 
comes will be acute and severe, but the worse it is the 
quicker it will be over and she will begin to live again,” 
the doctor responded. “Treat her as though the past 
had never been, as though it were natural for her to 
shut herself up, a normal existence, and gradually she 
will come back. She’s thinking it over, readjusting 
herself; we must make it as easy for her as possible.” 

“It seems sometimes as if she were waiting.” Rowe 
shook his head. “I can’t imagine for what or whom, 
since all her friends and acquaintances have besieged 
the doors, but there’s something else that I sense in 
her attitude. It’s almost tangible; something appre¬ 
hensive, a suggestion of brooding suspense!” 

The attorney was more nearly right in his opinion 
than Dr. Van Tuyl. Claudia was thinking; she was 
waiting! At first she had succumbed to the numbing 
relief of reaction, but the sharp mental agony had 
been passed with her acquittal. An odd cleverness 
had developed within her, a cunning at which she se¬ 
cretly congratulated herself. She had something to 
think out, to plan, and she could not be annoyed by 
outside things, could not have her life ordered for her. 


The Return 283 

She discovered that while she maintained this attitude 
of stunned inertia, with a semblance of agitation bor¬ 
dering on hysteria when she was crossed, she would be 
left in peace, and deliberately she prolonged it. She 
must walk alone, face her problem, and decide for 
herself what was to be done. 

For Zorn would return! The conviction had burst 
upon her full-grown when she could think again. That 
initial payment had been but the entering wedge, he 
would come again and again and when she could give 
no more he would tell! If she acceded a second time 
it would be the beginning of the end! At first that 
crushing knowledge was all she could force her over¬ 
wrought brain to accept. She was helpless—and she 
was innocent! 

Her husband’s death was a sheer accident, the fall 
in itself would have killed him had the revolver not 
been discharged. But the fall would not have 
occurred, the revolver not been discharged, had she 
not thrust him so violently from her that he reeled 
back upon the unsafe flooring. She had sent him to 
death with her own hands! She was morally guilty of 
his murder, as guilty as though she had fired the shot 
that ended his life! 

For days after this thought came to her she had 
cowered in her bed, watching the shadows cast by sun 
and lamplight, listening for she knew not what. When 
sleep came to her it brought whirling clouds of dust out 
of which hideous pictures formed; Niles, with that 
look of demoniac rage, changed so quickly to surprise 
and horror, Niles as he must have been on that night 


284 Dust to Dust 

long ago when he allowed his innocent victim to sink 
to death without aid, Zorn, with his menacing leer! 

When these visions came she would start up with a 
shriek but instantly, almost before Annie could reach 
her side, she was fully awake, alert, ready with a clever 
story to mask the truth. Annie must never know 
of this horror always with her, nor Uncle Matt, nor 
above all the doctor! Claudia didn’t know just why 
she must keep this from them, but if they knew she 
was really guilty of her husband’s death she felt that 
in some way they would change toward her, league 
themselves with all humanity against a murderess! 

That other Claudia who had existed before the 
valley of shadows through which she had passed would 
have pitied herself, hated herself for having been 
made the unconscious instrument of justice, but the new 
Claudia rejoiced in it! Niles Hamersley had deserved 
to die! She had killed him accidentally, of course, but 
if she had planned it she could not have brought about 
the result more cleverly! How easy, now that she 
knew the secret, it would be to kill anybody! Just 
make it appear as an accident, and she could laugh 
at these fools who thought themselves so wise*, and 
judicial, and sane! 

She had killed and yet it had not changed her in any 
way. Stealthily, when these thoughts came, she would 
creep to her mirror, after assuring herself that she 
was not observed by any eye, and study the girl who 
looked back at her. Surely she was the same to all 
outward appearances; the same aristocratic Langham 
features, the golden hair, the tall, willowy form. 


The Return 285 

More slender, perhaps, more wan and ethereal, but 
that was to be expected from her ordeal and subse¬ 
quent illness. The same gentle, calm, almost timid ex¬ 
pression, the eyes—ah, she must be careful of her 
eyes! They must never reveal that look of new in¬ 
telligence, to betray how clever she had become! 

She must use that cleverness now, for Zorn would 
return! If she denied him he would take his shameful 
lies to some newspaper and even though she was safe 
from the law there would still be the horror of public 
exposure. And even if she met his first demand, the 
inevitable would only be deferred. 

But was it inevitable? Would it be, to a resolute, 
clever person? Was there no alternative? If she 
could only feel free to think, if only she did not feel 
their eyes upon her so closely all the time! The doctor, 
Uncle Matt, Annie, even old George, doddering and 
almost senile since his seizure—they appeared to be 
watching her always, suspiciously, warily! 

What were they afraid of? Did they think after all 
that she might have inherited her poor mother’s 
trouble? Could they actually imagine that she was be¬ 
coming insane? Claudia could scarcely keep from 
laughing aloud at the thought. She, losing her mind, 
when she was now as a matter of fact more keen, clear¬ 
headed, acutely brilliant than she had ever been be¬ 
fore? 

If they knew it they would suspect her all the more, 
they wouldn’t think it natural for her to be anything 
but stupid, confidingly docile, ready to go on paying 
this monster to the end! She must get away for a few 


286 Dust to Dust 

hours at least from their prying eyes, for if they 
watched too closely they might be able to read her 
thoughts. She must have freedom from espionage—* 
but how to obtain it? 

The anxious attorney and physician were overjoyed 
when, at the beginning of September, Claudia evinced 
a desire for short drives in her motorcar out upon 
the pleasant Long Island and Westchester roads. At 
first Matthew Rowe accompanied her, then Annie, but 
soon she showed a desire to go alone with just John, 
the chauffeur, and, as she returned with brighter eyes 
and a faint but fresh color in her cheeks from these 
daily expeditions, her self-appointed guardians felt that 
at last the trouble was safely passed. 

There came one final moment of anxiety for Mat¬ 
thew Rowe, however. 

“What do you think? She wants a car of her own, 
a light, swift roadster that she can drive herself!” he 
confided to Dr. Van Tuyl. “It isn’t like her; she never 
wanted to go in for that sort of thing before, and it 
worries me.” 

“Why?” The doctor smiled. “Most girls drive 
in this age and it shows that Claudia’s taking a normal 
interest in things. I should advise it by all means. 
For one reason, it will necessitate her removing that 
thick veil she’s been wearing and she will be too busy 
to notice if people recognize her and stare in the 
streets. Get her a car by all means, Rowe.” 

So Claudia became the possessor of a roadster of 
inconspicuous gray with a light-running but high- 
powered engine, and in a week or two more was able 


The Return 287 

to dispense with the tutelage of John and fare forth 
alone. 

Alone! That was what she had been working for, 
what she had schemed and planned! How simply it 
had been brought about, with this new cleverness of 
hers! Had she pleaded she would have been hemmed 
in the more, but now, whenever she chose, hours of 
freedom stretched before her! Freedom from watch¬ 
ing eyes! 

It was strange how quickly she accustomed herself 
to the mere mechanical effort of driving, but it was all 
a part of this new-found poise and control, of course. 
Through the mazes of traffic she glided smoothly, 
avoiding all danger as by a miracle through some sub¬ 
conscious sense that left her yet time for her own 
musing. 

For Zorn would come soon now. That knowledge 
had never for an instant been absent from her thoughts. 
He would come, and what must then be done? There 
could be no pandering to his unscrupulous demands, 
no rash defiance of him, but somehow he must be cir¬ 
cumvented, rendered helpless to harm her further. 

Through the long September days, while health re¬ 
turned to her young body, she pondered the problem 
before her. No rain fell and the continued drought 
raised huge dust clouds about her when she ventured 
out into the country in which she seemed to see Zorn’s 
face as it came to her in her dreams. On one such 
occasion she swerved the car so abruptly that it ran 
up on a bank, tilting perilously, and, when she had 
righted it and stopped, she sat for a moment spent and 


288 Dust to Dust 

trembling. It was only a vision, conjured up by her 
fear of him; when he came in the flesh these phan¬ 
toms would be exorcised, but when he came— 

Where was he hiding himself? He had not ap¬ 
proached Uncle Matt, she was sure of that, for she 
had questioned him adroitly to make certain. She 
still refused to see Stephen, as she refused to see every 
one else—there were enough eyes watching her now, 
enough suspicion directed at her to spy upon her brain! 
Yet she knew that, although Stephen had ceased to 
haunt her doorstep, he was in constant communication 
with Uncle Matt and the latter would have warned her 
of Zorn’s re-advent. 

Gradually, in spite of her own mental volition, her 
thoughts were taking shape for her, a plan, nebulous 
but grim with portent, was forming itself. When he 
came, she must manage to see him alone, out of ear¬ 
shot of any living soul; she must fill him with distrust 
of the others, must make him believe that only she 
feared him, only she would be putty now in his hands. 
It would be a complete reversal of her former attitude 
toward him and he was shrewd, but not as shrewd as 
she! With her new cunning, this intelligence which 
amounted to genius, she was a match for him at last, 
she was cleverer than all the world! When he believed 
that through abject fear of him he had her completely 
in his power she would bargain with him, temporize, 
make an appointment with him in some out-of-the-way 
spot and then —he must die as Niles Hamersley had 
diedby accident! 

She knew it now! This was the alternative, the 


The Return 289 

answer to the problem which had been in her mind 
since first the realization came that she had killed 
her husband. Niles had been as guilty of another 
girl’s death as Claudia had accidentally been of his 
own, but Hugo Zorn was infinitely lower and more 
vile! He must be stamped out as any loathsome rep¬ 
tile encountered in the path, and caution must be ob¬ 
served only that blind justice would not exact a pen¬ 
alty for it. 

How that “accident” was to be brought about was 
still undecided in Claudia’s mind, when, one day in 
early October, she chose by chance a broad boulevard 
in the upper part of the city, leading over a new stone 
bridge across the North River and connecting with one 
of the main motor roads through the suburbs and up 
into the State. It had recently been completed and 
was close beside the remains of the old one, the street 
on the nearer side running into them both. As 
Claudia rolled smoothly over the new structure she 
noted idly the temporary, flimsy board barricade 
raised before the entrance of the condemned bridge, 
but her eyes were fixed ahead. 

She had not known that such a wild, semi-deserted 
spot still existed in the environs of the city. On the 
farther side of the bridge the road ran between wide 
stretches of flat, rocky, vacant land and patches of 
woods, with no houses within a quarter of a mile and 
those mere squatters’ shanties. If she were to come 
upon Zorn there among those rocks, sheltered from 
any watchful eyes, how easily an “accident” might 
occur! A blow from that heavy wrench from the 


290 


Dust to Dust 

tool-box of her car, a knife-thrust, a proffered drink 
from her flask or vacuum bottle in which, quite by 
mistake, some medicinal ingredient had been intro¬ 
duced—and it would be over! The world would 
never know of Niles’ shameful secret, the shadow of 
possible disgrace for the crime of which she was tech¬ 
nically innocent would be lifted from her forever! 

Claudia drove on a little further, just far enough 
to make sure of the actual isolation of the district, 
and then, turning, started for home. It was earlier 
than was her habit but she felt that she had made a 
definite step in her plan, as definite as though it were 
already accomplished, and she wanted to test herself 
before the watchful ones at home, to assure herself 
that they gained no indication from her manner of 
the brilliant idea teeming in her brain. 

Yet when she rang and old George admitted her, 
one glance at his agitated face showed her that some¬ 
thing had happened which effectually robbed him of 
that curious, suspicious glance she had found so in¬ 
tolerable. 

“What is it, George?” she asked in that gentle, 
sadly sweet voice she had trained herself to maintain. 

“Oh, Miss Claudia, that man’s here again!” He 
twisted his tremulous hands, looking fearfully toward 
the reception room. “He says he must see you, miss, 
he won’t go away! I’ve tried to get Mr. Rowe on 
the telephone, but he’ll be out of town on a business 
trip till night. I’m sure I didn’t want to disturb 
you about him—” 

“That’s quite all right, George.” Claudia exulted 


The Return 291 

at the calmness of her tones, but her heart had begun 
to beat fast, and she added a question to which she 
already knew the answer. “You mean the man call¬ 
ing himself ‘Zorn’? Since Mr. Rowe isn’t here, I’ll 
see him myself, of course.” 

She advanced slowly to the reception room door, 
wondering that her old fear of her persecutor was all 
but lost in the feeling of relief that the long suspense 
was over. She must guard herself well now, play her 
part, for if she succeeded, her enemy was delivered 
into her hands! 

“Mr. Zorn?” She paused just inside the doorway 
and the swarthy, evil, flat-nosed face appeared sud¬ 
denly before her, just as she had so many times seen it 
in her visions. A violent tremor that was not as¬ 
sumed passed over her, and she added: “Why have you 
come ?” 

“To tell you that I have been most unlucky—un¬ 
fortunate, I mean—and to ask that you will help me 
out, Mrs. Hamersley!” He leered, spreading his 
hands ingratiatingly. “You have shown such a kind 
interest in me as your husband’s friend—” 

“Stop!” Claudia cried. “There’s no need of pre¬ 
tense between us! You have come to blackmail me 
again.” 

“Certainly not! I knew something, my knowledge 
was worth paying for big, bigger than what I got, but 
you’d never have heard of me again after you sent 
your friend to give me that twenty-five thousand. I’m 
a man of my word, Mrs. Hamersley!” He smiled 
slowly, his hideously red lips widening like a gaping 


292 Dust to Dust 

wound while she stared at him, repelled, yet fasci¬ 
nated. How sure he was! How little he knew the 
crafty net she was spreading for him! “That money’s 
tied up now and to get it again I’ll have to send more 
after it, double the amount, in fact. If I don’t have 
fifty thousand by noon to-morrow—well—” 

Noon to-morrow! She would have to work 
quickly! 

“Wait a minute.” Claudia’s voice was hushed, 
controlled. She turned noiselessly to the door, to see 
George start back guiltily and Annie, at the foot of 
the stairs, shrink aside. “What are you doing here? 
George, I didn’t tell you to wait; when I need you 
I’ll ring. Annie, go upstairs!” 

She spoke with a sharp command, almost a snarl, 
which they had never heard from her before and after 
a dismayed glance at each other they scurried away. 
Then she turned once more and, reentering the recep¬ 
tion-room, closed the door carefully behind her. 

Hugo Zorn was still smiling, but at sight of her 
expression, his own became lowering. 

“Now, you will listen, please.” Claudia went 
straight up to him. “My attorney, those of my 
friends who know of this affair, have assured me that 
you would come again with some such tale, and that 
if I paid you, you would keep on with your demands 
until you had taken all I could give you, and then you 
would go to the newspapers with your story. They 
have sworn that on your second attempt to approach 
any of them for blackmail they will set a trap to have 


The Return 293 

you arrested and prosecuted for it. They mean to 
fight you now to the end!” 

“They’re good friends of yours!” Zorn sneered. 
“They won’t have to go on trial for murder and 
maybe get sent to the chair!” 

“You know that’s nonsense. I am safe from the 
law. I have been acquitted. As for the newspapers, 
my friends tell me it would be better to have you tell 
your story now than later when you have impoverished 
me.” Claudia’s tones trembled and she permitted a 
note of uncertainty to creep into them on which her 
persecutor seized. 

“Why should I do that when I hadn’t anything 
more to gain?” he demanded eagerly. “I haven’t got 
a thing in the world against you, Mrs. Hamersley. I 
didn’t tell what I knew about your husband, why 
shouldn’t I be as good a friend to you as I was to 
him? Only, I got to be paid for it this once. That’s 
why I came to you now instead of your friends. I 
knew you’d see reason. I swear if you get this money 
for me I’ll go away off and you’ll never hear of me 
again!” 

His husky, guttural voice held a simulation of sin¬ 
cerity, but Claudia discounted it. None the less she 
remarked yieldingly: 

“If I could believe that—* You said it before, but 
you are here.” 

“You’ve got to believe it! I can’t do more than 
give you my word!” he urged. “You’ve got millions 
and I’m only asking for fifty thousand to pull me out 


294 Dust to Dust 

of this hole, nothing to you and everything to me. 
Of course if you won’t, I’ll go to the newspapers— 
why wouldn’t I ? If I’m ruined, why shouldn’t the 
one be that brought it on me? Fifty thousand before 
noon to-morrow, and no one’ll never hear a word from 
me, I swear it!” 

“I—I can’t arrange for all that, not immediately!” 
Claudia pleaded. “You see, Mr. Rowe has charge 
of all my affairs and if I asked for so much he would 
suspect and have you arrested on sight. You mustn’t 
come to the house again, but I’ll—I’ll meet you to¬ 
morrow and give you all I can get, ten or perhaps fif¬ 
teen thousand, and more—perhaps all—within the 
week. If this doesn’t satisfy you, you must do what 
you please and take the consequences. You can’t get 
what I haven’t possession of myself!” 

She spoke with desperate finality and after scanning 
her set face for a moment Zorn shrugged. 

“You bring the fifteen thousand to-morrow—and 
mind you make it that, and as much more as you can 
lay hands on!—and then we’ll talk business. I’ve 
got to have the whole fifty thousand or the deal’s off! 
Where’ll I meet you?” 

This was her moment! Claudia drew a deep 
breath, pausing as though making up her mind and 
then said slowly: 

“There’s a place, the loneliest I can think of, within 
the city limits, just beyond the new bridge over the 
North River. We mustn’t be seen by any one, you 
realize that, of course! I—I’m risking everything, 
but I can’t face that—that notoriety again, I cannot!” 


The Return 295 

Her voice had risen in a low wail and Zorn’s eyes 
flashed exultantly as he hastened to reassure her. 

“You just play fair with me, Mrs. Hamersley, and 
be sensible about this and you’ll never have to! I 
know that bridge. You want me to wait at the far end 
of it for you?” 

Claudia nodded. It had been too simple! 

“Yes. I’ll pick you up then—pass you and get out 
and walk in that vacant lot there till you follow me. 
At noon to-morrow!—And now, go ! Mr. Rowe may 
return to the city on any train and, finding my butler’s 
message, he’ll come straight here!” 

“All right!” Zorn was evidently trying to conceal 
his elation. “Don’t you fail me, though, or you 
know what’ll happen!” 

Claudia smiled with stiffened lips. 

“I shall not fail you!” 


CHAPTER XXI 


THE DUST STORM 

T HAT night the wind rose to a steady gale and 
Claudia lay quietly in her bed feigning sleep 
whenever the anxious Annie bent over her. 
She felt an odd sensation of exhilaration, of coming 
triumph, which not even her interview with Uncle 
Matt, with its need of the most keen watchfulness 
had been able wholly to subdue. 

For Uncle Matt had presented himself immediately 
after dinner in an agitation almost greater than he 
had shown during her late ordeal, and his relief on 
her account was patent when she received him calmly 
and with an air of child-like confidence that success¬ 
fully counterfeited the attitude of the old Claudia. 

“No, I wasn’t at all frightened, Uncle Matt, 
though I—I had hoped never to see that dreadful 
man again,” she responded in reply to his worried 
questioning. “I didn’t make the mistake of defying 
him as I did once before, but I convinced him that 
I couldn’t do anything without your advice, even if 
I would; you had charge of my income and all my 
affairs. He—he wants fifty thousand this time, and 
he says he’ll let you know where to send it within three 
days. I knew you would know how to deal with him, 
and as soon as he was sure he couldn’t get any money 
from me he went away peaceably enough.” 

296 


The Dust Storm 297 

“Did he threaten you?” Rowe demanded fiercely. 

“Yes, but he wasn’t so violent as before. He said 
he hadn’t anything against me personally, but he must 
have the money. Uncle Matt, you will stop him? 
You will send him away forever?” 

Afraid that she had not seemed as helpless and dis¬ 
mayed as he would naturally expect Claudia had put 
a world of pleading into her voice, inwardly smiling 
the while, and the attorney threw his arm protectingly 
about her shoulders. 

“I’ll deal with him, never fear, my dear child!” 
There was a grimness in his tones which he did not 
attempt to conceal. “If he comes here again I want 
you to promise me you won’t receive him.” 

But Zorn would never come again! Claudia 
breathed deeply and looked up into Uncle Matt’s 
eyes. 

“I promise you, if he ever does come here I will not 
see him!” 

“That’s my good girl!” He gave her shoulder a 
final pat and then released her. “Try to put him and 
everything connected with him out of your thoughts. 
He won’t even communicate with you, I’m sure, after 
he has come to me.” 

But Rowe’s tones had not been as confident as he 
would have had them appear and with her strange, 
new perceptions Claudia discerned it. Now, as she 
lay thinking over the scene, she wondered with a little 
exultant thrill what he would say and think when Zorn 
did not pay that call upon him! He would plan and 
plan how to meet that issue without the real, the only 


298 


Dust to Dust 

way ever occurring to him, he would be in dreadful 
suspense, of course, and then when the truth came 
out how relieved he would be at the fortuitous “acci¬ 
dent” ! 

Claudia smiled in the darkness at the thought. He 
was dear and faithful, of course, but she couldn’t help 
being amused—he was so stupid! He would never 
dream how clever she had been! 

She had decided upon the means; a knife would be 
too horrible, and, all unskilled as she was, she might 
blunder. Poison would be too difficult to obtain and 
might leave traces, but the heavy, short wrench from 
the tool-box of her car—one unexpected blow with 
sufficient force upon his head when she had maneu¬ 
vered to make him seat himself on a secluded rock and 
remove his hat while she still remained standing, and 
it would be all over! 

When he was finally discovered in that lonely spot 
there would be no indication of the weapon used, only 
evidence that he had been struck down either in a 
private feud or by footpads. What a simple scheme 
it was! Simple, as were all brilliant solutions! 

Toward dawn the steady gale changed to sudden, 
swirling gusts of wind that rose to a shrieking roar 
and then died as suddenly, with long moments of 
silence before the next furious onslaught. But still 
there was no rain. Claudia lay in seeming tran¬ 
quillity, but inwardly seething with suspense. Would 
morning never come? She felt keyed-up, buoyed as 
never before, as though some potent drug were cours¬ 
ing through her veins—and she must wait till noon! 


The Dust Storm 299 

The morning light brought an overcast sky with 
a strange lurid glow through it, but no rain. The 
gusts of wind increased in violence as day advanced, 
raising huge clouds of dust from the arid park to swirl 
about the windows. 

Dust! Claudia could laugh at it now, but some¬ 
how she didn’t; almost she took it as an omen. She 
hadn’t believed in old Annie’s sighs and portents, but 
that was in past days when she had been as stupid as 
the rest of the world. Dust had risen about her at 
every climax of her life and its presence now must 
mean that Zorn’s hour was at hand! 

The time dragged almost unendurably, but Claudia 
guarded her every word and action, and when eleven 
o’clock came at last, she laid aside her book which 
she had pretended to read under Annie’s watchful 
eyes and rose. 

“My tweed suit, please, Annie, and the black silk 
coat that sheds the dust,” she directed composedly. 
“Tell George to have John bring my small car in half 
an hour.” 

“Oh, Miss Claudia, you’re never going out!” Annie 
clasped her hands in dismay. “Not in all this 
storm!” 

“Storm?” Claudia eyed her in feigned surprise, but 
spoke with silky gentleness. “There isn’t any rain 
and I think it’s getting lighter. I don’t mind a little 
wind.” 

“ ‘Little’!” the old woman ejaculated. “It’s 
enough to knock you over, car and all, and the dust’s 
fit to blind you! Here I was thinking how well you 


300 Dust to Dust 

took it and all, not getting nervous, but I’d no idea 
you’d go out in it! Don’t do it, my lamb!” 

“Annie, I want a little air before luncheon, just for 
an hour.” Claudia paused and then a note of firm¬ 
ness crept into her tones. “I know you mean it for 
the best, but I’m not a child nor an invalid any longer. 
I shall go out when I please. Must I order my car 
myself?” 

“Oh!” Annie’s face quivered. “Of course, I’ll tell 
George, but you’re not like yourself any longer, Miss 
Claudia! You never spoke to me as you have lately 
in all your life before and now to go out in all this, 
you that never could abide rough weather—” 

She turned away with her handkerchief to her eyes, 
but Claudia’s arms were quickly about her and 
Claudia’s old, impetuous affection soothed her. 
“You’re not like yourself any longer!” Was that a 
warning to watch herself more warily? Had she 
really betrayed herself even to these faded, stupid 
eyes? 

Carefully, with no hint of anything more serious 
than the gratification of a mere whim, she persuaded 
Annie to reluctantly dress her and order the car. In 
twenty minutes she was off and away in a whirl of 
dust and blasting cyclone of wind that at times seemed 
fairly to drive the sturdy roadster off its course and 
bent her slender body low behind the glass shield. 

Save for the traffic police, clinging desperately to 
their signal posts, and a few gigantic trucks, Claudia 
seemed to have the broad streets and avenues to her¬ 
self, and she made the most of the temporary calm 


The Dust Storm 301 

which came between each outburst to drive her car 
speedily ahead; desperately, for if Zorn reached the 
meeting-place and she were not there, he might think 
that she had not ventured forth and would depart to 
approach her again. It must be now or never! 

At length she reached the northern boulevard and 
in a momentary quietude, while the swirling dust cloud 
parted in settling, she saw the approaches of the two 
bridges; the new one, and close beside it the other 
with its flimsy wooden barricade blown away. They 
looked so much alike that for an instant she was con¬ 
fused. She must keep to the right, for that entrance 
meant safety over the secure arches to the road be¬ 
yond; the other, the left gateway, led to a few feet of 
rotten timbers and then a sudden plunge into the 
turbulent river below. 

Just as a distant, rising howl told her that a fresh 
blast was coming Claudia descried a solitary figure 
ahead, bent almost double and clinging to his hat with 
both hands, while his coat flew out behind him like 
the swooping wings of some foul bird of prey, and in 
that instant she knew him! It was Zorn! 

There was no mistaking that squat figure and sham¬ 
bling crawl and —he was bearing to the left! The 
dust cloud rose once more blindingly, but before it 
enveloped him, he glanced over his shoulder and she 
had a fleeting vision of that leering, evil face red¬ 
lipped, unutterably loathsome. 

Why wait until the bridge was crossed and they 
were alone in that wilderness of rocky, open field? 
Zorn was already headed toward the old bridge 


302 Dust to Dust 

entrance, but this gust of wind would die down and the 
dust settle in time for him to discover his mistake if 
his steps were not hastened. He had not recognized 
her or he would have stopped; but what difference if 
he had, since all thought must cease for him in a 
twinkling? 

With a set smile and glittering, staring eyes which 
made of her a different being from the gentle girl of 
a few short months before, Claudia opened her 
muffler cut-out that he might hear it above the howling 
wind and drove straight at that vague figure looming 
through the yellowish, eddying cloud. She dimly 
saw him fling up his arms and leap aside, but to the 
left, to the very mouth of that yawning structure 
whose cavernous entrance ended in a dark void. She 
saw him dart within, but swerved and followed till the 
bumper of her car was abreast of the opening. 

There she stopped suddenly, the machine rolling 
only a few feet out and still on firm ground—and then 
all at once, as though the gods themselves had bade 
it cease, the wind died and there came clearly to her 
ears a hoarse, terrified shout, a hideous scrambling 
sound and a weird, high-pitched scream! 

After that, nothing! Claudia listened with strain¬ 
ing ears! Why didn’t the end come? Was he cling¬ 
ing to some out-thrust beam or upreared pile? Why 
didn’t he call—? Ah! It came at last, beyond and 
far below—a great splash as of a heavy body falling 
into the angry waters! This time she was indeed 
free! 


303 


The Dust Storm 

With a wild exultation, a rush of blood that 
drummed in her ears and seemed about to burst her 
temples, Claudia backed and turned her car and, as the 
wind rose and the dust enveloped her in a vast cloud, 
she drove away. 

She had no clear idea of how she reached home 
again. She only knew that some one rode beside her 
whom she could not see but who sang in a queer, dis¬ 
cordant, high voice and shouted and tried to tear the 
steering-wheel from her grasp, but it didn’t matter. 
The rain came at last, pelting down in driving sheets, 
but she did not feel it. In an incredibly short space of 
time she found herself stepping down, struggling 
across a few feet of sidewalk in the very face of the 
tempest to a familiar-looking brown stone post, cling¬ 
ing to it for a moment to get her breath, crawling 
upward— 

Then the door opened, old George seized her in his 
withered arms and called out in his cracked voice, and 
Annie took her from him. Claudia knew that she was 
being carried up to her room and put to bed, that old 
George was sending for Dr. Van Tuyl; she must not 
lose consciousness now, now when she had won! She 
must not betray herself! 

“The—storm !” she murmured. 

“Yes, my lamb?” Annie crooned over her adjust¬ 
ing hot water bottles. 

“It was too much for me! I could—hardly find 
my way—home.” 

“You’re home now, my dear, and a blessing it is!” 


304 Dust to Dust 

the old woman exclaimed fervently. “Rest you, the 
doctor’ll soon be here; take this and try to sleep till 
he comes.” 

Claudia sipped at the hot, potent liquid held to her 
lips and then sank back on her pillows. She must be 
on guard every minute, there must be no slip, no un¬ 
studied word! But it was over and she was very 
tired: she had won, she was safe and nothing else 
seemed to matter. . . . 

When Claudia awoke again it was to hear, dimly 
at first and then close at her bedside, two masculine 
voices talking in subdued tones. She recognized 
them, of course; Dr. Van Tuyl and Uncle Matt, but 
what on earth were they saying? Instinctively she 
lay motionless, her eyes still closed, and listened. 

“There’s no possibility of a mistake, I suppose?” 
the doctor asked nervously. “It was actually the 
body of the man who you say has been annoying the 
child, trying to blackmail her because of some ugly 
secret in her husband’s past? I’ve heard nothing 
about it! Why didn’t you tell me about him? It 
may have had a serious effect on her condition!” 

“Oh, we managed to keep the details from her,” 
Rowe replied in his urbane tones. “She wasn’t very 
seriously annoyed, Doctor. Yes, it was the man! 
I saw him myself in the morgue; they picked him up 
in the North River, near the foot of that old bridge. 
It was Zorn, there’s no mistake about that!” 

Zorn! The old bridge over the North River! In 
a flash the whole scene arose before Claudia’s clari¬ 
fying mental vision and with it came triumph! Her 


The Dust Storm 305 

enemy was gone! He could never harm her again! 
—But what else had been found beside merely his 
body? What did they know? She waited with bated 
breath to hear. 

“I know the spot!” Dr. Van Tuyl exclaimed softly. 
“I thought that old bridge had been dismantled long 
ago. You mean to say it was there this fellow Zorn 
was found?” 

“From what I have been able to gather,” Rowe 
replied still in his most subdued tones. “The wind¬ 
storm this morning carried away the wooden blockade 
that had been erected and apparently Zorn became 
confused in some way, by the dustclouds perhaps, and 
walked off the edge of that old bridge, mistaking it 
for the new. Unless he was suddenly stricken blind, 
I don’t see how it could have happened, but that’s 
what the authorities have decided; every trace of his 
footprints have been blown away, of course.” 

All traces had been blown away! The police knew 
nothing of her part in this “accident” ! Claudia could 
have cried her victory aloud, but she controlled her¬ 
self by a mighty effort. 

“Were there any—marks on the body?” the doctor 
asked with a significant pause between his words. 

“Only bruises from knocking against the piles, I 
understand. It’s the strangest thing I ever heard 
of!” 

“Not so strange when you consider that storm,” 
the other remarked. “Man, the wind drove the dust 
before it like solid walls; you couldn’t see your hand 
before your face when the gusts came and it was ah 


306 Dust to Dust 

most impossible to breathe! This Zorn must have be¬ 
lieved he was crossing the new span and simply walked 
off into space. Lord, what an end! Still, a black¬ 
mailer—it’s a sheer act of Providence that he can’t 
annoy Claudia any more, after all she has suffered! 
It’s a miracle that she found her way home! I won¬ 
der why she went out in the storm?” 

“Just a notion, Annie tells me. She probably drove 
up into the park and lost the road or was stalled.” 
Rowe’s voice was indifferent, but it changed swiftly 
to affectionate concern. “You’re sure there’ll be no 
dangerous effects, no long illness?” 

“No, only a good rest and then I shall insist upon 
her going away; the mountains, perhaps; good, brac¬ 
ing, cool air!” The doctor spoke with assured con¬ 
fidence. “She’s passed the danger point now.—See, 
she’s stirring! 

But Claudia had merely turned over with a deep 
sigh as though in her sleep. She had had to turn to 
conceal the smile which came unbidden to her lips. 
How clever she had been! How marvelously clever! 
She had hoodwinked them all, police and doctor and 
lawyer! Now she could indeed rest, for the danger 
point was past! 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE FINAL MENACE 

G RAY-GREEN of spruce and hemlock, with here 
and there the bare branches of oak and maple 
towering above them to form a wondrous trac¬ 
ery against the clear, frosty sky; dense undergrowth 
of alder and cedar, with now and then the slender, 
clustering, silvery shafts of birches, like unlit altar 
tapers; velvety moss and crisply rustling leaves under¬ 
foot, the tinkle of a wayward spring, the sparkling 
expanse of the lake’s broad stretch of white-capped 
water—the Adirondacks in late November! 

Claudia drew in deep breaths of the pungent, piney 
air, and her soft eyes, cloaked as in some secret veil, 
gazed out over the lake to where a solemn crane 
poised himself on one long leg in profound reflection, 
making a blur of grayish-white against the misty gray- 
green of a tiny, low-lying islet. 

She was seated upon a mossy rock which jutted out 
over the water and Stephen Munson was beside her. 
He had run up to the hunt club for a rest after the 
season closed, he explained with specious mendacity, 
and only just discovered how near was the primitive 
little camp which she and Mrs. Yates had taken. 

It was the first time that Claudia had seen him since 
her trial and now an oddly constrained silence had 
fallen between them. It was broken by an intruder, 
307 


308 Dust to Dust 

a slim streak of sleek reddish-brown which flashed 
from one crevice in the rock to another with a glitter 
of small, very bright eyes. Stephen flipped a twig 
after it, laughing. 

“That little fellow will embrace some fair lady’s 
neck one of these days if he’s not careful!” 

“Don’t!” Claudia closed her eyes with a little 
shiver. “I can’t bear to think of—of destruction, 
somehow. I’ll never make a sportswoman, Stephen! 
During the season I used to tremble at the sound of a 
gun-shot in the woods and every time I caught sight 
of a deer among the trees I wanted to call to it to 
fly! I’m so glad it’s all over!” 

How well that had sounded! How like that other 
timid, stupid Claudia! How cleverly she was keeping 
her guard up, even now before Stephen, who had 
come to watch her just as all the others were watch¬ 
ing her! Even Mrs. Yates! She was not free from 
espionage here any more than at home, but if Stephen, 
her old playmate, thought he could find out what was 
going on in her mind he was a fool, like all the rest! 

Stephen was gazing at her with sympathetic under¬ 
standing, but his tone was purposely light as he asked: 

“How are you and your two camp-mates getting 
along? You’re looking wonderfully fit, but somehow 
I can’t imagine you in a tent with pine boughs for a 
bed and the bottom of a frying-pan for a mirror! 
Mrs. Yates gave you away; she told me you were 
leading the simple life with amazing consistency.” 

Was Stephen trying to sound her? Claudia’s long- 
silenced laughter rippled out in a lilting cadence, but 


The Final Menace 309 

even to her own ears there was a strange overtone in 
it and she ceased abruptly. She must be careful of 
her laughter, for she couldn’t always quite control it 
:—of her laughter and her eyes! 

“She’s a revelation herself! Annie moans and 
groans over the lack of luxuries and talks feelingly of 
old George at home, but Mrs. Yates rolled up her 
sleeves and pitched right in! She says it reminds her 
of the old prospecting days with her husband.” 
Claudia paused and then added evenly: “She was 
wonderful during my—my trouble, and after my long 
rest she was the first person I wanted to see. Odd, 
wasn’t it, with my host of old friends like you, 
Stephen? She has been a great comfort to me, but 
even she won’t tell me about—Zorn. Won’t you?” 

Claudia bit her lip in vexation but the question 
would out. She could not understand why she should 
feel this overweening curiosity, when she herself 
knew more about his death than any one in the world 
and there seemed to be no use in mentioning his name 
when she could not tell Stephen or any one how won¬ 
derfully clever she had been, but the desire to talk 
of him was irresistible. 

Serenely unconscious of her hidden motive, Stephen 
reddened. 

“I suppose I must tell you. I don’t like to speak 
ill of the dead, but you remember that some instinct 
repelled me, and I couldn’t bear to see you married 
to Hamersley! Although I wouldn’t attend the wed¬ 
ding, I was in the crowd outside and I not only saw 
what took place, but I followed! I’m not excusing 


310 Dust to Dust 

myself, I knew something was wrong! They went to 
Philadelphia and I was on the same train; my taxi 
trailed theirs to a dingy little house in the outskirts, 
and when I ascertained in the neighborhood that two 
brothers, broken-down race-track hangers-on, lived 
there, I returned to New York, more firmly convinced 
than ever of your—your mistake. I suppose I should 
have told you when I came to you after the tragedy 
but you didn’t want any help then and I could only 
wait. When you told me of Zorn’s attempt to see 
you in the afternoon and then breaking in at night—” 

“You walked up and down in front of my house, 
guarding it, until dawn!” Claudia interrupted softly. 
“I know, Stephen; I saw you.” 

Stephen flushed. 

“I wanted to have a talk with the fellow if I could 
get hold of him,” he explained. “I went back to 
Philadelphia when—when you gave me permission to 
search for him, and picked up the trail, which ended 
in a cheap flat on the concourse. Dr. Van Tuyl and 
Mr. Rowe say it isn’t good for you to discuss him, 
that you ought to put the whole horrible business out 
of your mind, but you know that we paid him and 
then he turned up again to blackmail you. In the end, 
he was killed accidentally in that storm.” 

Accidentally! Claudia felt a thrill of pride mingled 
with resentment. Of course her secret must never be 
discovered, but how blind of him not to guess! Was 
her great achievement to be buried forever? It must 
be, for her own safety, she must remember that! She 
had delivered herself from the hands of her enemy 


The Final Menace 311 

and it must be enough for her to know it. But 
Stephen had helped at Zorn’s first demand; he had 
been devoted and he would think it strange if she 
didn’t show some evidence of gratitude; she was 
grateful, even though she herself had succeeded in 
silencing Zorn where all the others had failed . . . 

“Oh, Stephen, if it hadn’t been for you—” She 
broke off and for an instant the cloud deepened in her 
eyes. Then she went on: “I have never been able to 
understand the last and greatest thing you did for 
me. What was it you recalled so suddenly when I 
reminded you of the day long ago when we appro¬ 
priated that old revolver to play with?” 

“And Annie found us?” He smiled. “She 
rushed to your father and I followed to tell him that 
you weren’t to blame, but he told her there was no 
danger, that the trigger was jammed. I remembered 
all at once that he had said Hercules himself couldn’t 
pull it, and that had made an impression on me be¬ 
cause even then I’d been mooning over that statue of 
Hercules in the museum!—But I’ve got to hike along 
back to the club, Claudia; may I run over again? 
When I stopped at the camp to find you, Mrs. Yates 
dared me to come and try some of her flapjacks and 
coffee, but I was rather wary—” 

“You needn’t be!” Claudia laughed again as she 
rose and gave him her hand. Then her face grew 
serious and she added: “Do come, Stephen. I—we 
shall be ever so glad!” 

When he had disappeared along the path between 
the towering pines, Claudia seated herself once more 


312 


Dust to Dust 

and, chin in hand, gazed out over the waters of the 
lake. Life was ended, of course, but this calm after- 
math was very sweet, and if Stephen had ever fancied 
he cared for her—that way—it was past now without 
disturbing the strong, sure bonds of their old friend¬ 
ship. If only she could keep on playing her part! 
If only she could fight down this absurd desire to have 
some one know how wondrously wise and clever she 
had become! 

But could he be returning? Some one was forcing 
a way through the thicket of alders with sliding, un¬ 
certain steps very unlike Stephen’s firm tread. 
Claudia glanced up as the dense undergrowth parted 
and to her unutterable astonishment Dicky Tewson 
stood before her! 

He was arrayed in the nattiest of sports attire, 
but it was torn and streaked with moss stains and dust 
from the rough going he had evidently encountered 
and his pasty face was flushed from the unwonted 
exertion. 

“I have found you at last, my dear Claudia!” He 
removed his cap, bending low over her and she was 
forced to give him her hand. “What a foolish little 
girl to hide yourself away like this, and how unkind 
you were not to see me when I called!” 

“How does it happen that you are here, Dick?” 
Claudia bit her lip. What right had he to adopt that 
familiar, almost endearing tone? He had seated 
himself, too, without invitation, in Stephen’s place be¬ 
side her. 

“It didn’t just happen!” he replied in an injured 


The Final Menace 313 

voice. “I’ve been trying to find you ever since I 
heard that you had left town, but Mrs. Edgett dis¬ 
covered where you were at last. She is very much 
hurt at the way you have treated her, too!” 

An assumed concern showed in his voice. 

“I’m sorry.” The girl added with quiet deliber¬ 
ation: “I wanted to be alone and I did not feel the 
need of any explanation. It is good of you to take 
such an interest in me, but I am at a loss to under¬ 
stand why—” 

“How can you say that, Claudia!” He spoke in a 
low, suddenly impassioned tone, and his pale eyes with 
the telltale lines about them gleamed with an avid 
light. “You sent me away from you two years ago, 
but I have never forgotten, and when your trouble 
came I was there! You saw me in the court room, 
you can’t deny it, Claudia, for you looked into my 
eyes! From the moment of your release I have tried 
to reach you, to tell you that I have not changed, that 
I feel toward you now exactly as I did when I first 
asked you to be my wife!” 

“My dear Dick!” Claudia’s voice was shocked, al¬ 
most horrified. “You must never—never speak to 
me in this way again! I thought we understood each 
other long ago and I didn’t dream that you would 
ever precipitate another scene which would be dis¬ 
tressing to us both! Even if you did not accept what 
I told you then as final, you must know that to come 
to me now, to talk of marriage—to me! You must 
be mad!” 

“I was never more sane!” He tried to take her 


314 Dust to Dust 

hand in his, but she drew back. “Don’t shrink from 
me, Claudia! Can’t you understand that it doesn’t 
make any difference? They have dragged you in the 
mire, the dust, and I know how you must feel, but I 
have come to raise you up again! It doesn’t matter 
what people may say, I can protect you, and my 
name—” 

“Stop!” Claudia cried. “It seems that we are 
bound to misunderstand each other again! I do not 
feel in the least as you imagine, I need no one’s pro¬ 
tection and no one’s name! I am sorry that you 
should have searched me out with this mistaken idea 
in your mind, and I suppose under the circumstances 
your attitude is very—kind, but it is dreadful to me! 
I have known much suffering, but I am not in the least 
abject, as you appear to think, nor do I require any 
one to lift me out of the—the dust!” 

Dicky flushed once more and his breath came fast. 

“Forgive me, Claudia, perhaps I spoke too 
abruptly, but I have waited so long! I shouldn’t 
have mentioned your trouble, but I came expecting to 
find you crushed, overcome with the horror of what 
you have been through, and I wanted to comfort 
you. I had forgotten your pride, although I have- 
reason enough to remember it! You sent me from 
you before without much mercy, as though I were 
something a little less than the ground beneath your 
feet, but the Claudia Langham of those days, the 
most spoiled, petted debutante of the season, is a very 
different person from the Claudia Hamersley of now! 
If you haven’t realized it yet, you will when you try 


The Final Menace 315 

to knock again on the doors of society! I am sorry 
to be the one to open your eyes—” 

“They have never been closed,” Claudia inter¬ 
rupted still quietly, but an ominous light had come as 
she spoke. “I have listened very patiently, but I won¬ 
der if you know that your words are an insult? I 
have asked no one to receive me, I shall never try to 
regain my place—” 

“But you can!” Dicky interrupted in his turn, im¬ 
pervious to the warning in her manner. “As my wife 
they will be forced to receive you, but as the widow of 
an adventurer whom you were accused of killing, a 
woman who has been on trial for her life—” 

Claudia sprang to her feet, her breast heaving 
tumultuously, and in spite of himself the man recoiled 
at the expression on her face. 

“How dare you!” Her voice was shaking now. 
“I knew that you were a cad, unspeakable, but I never 
realized until now how utterly low you are! Let me 
pass!” 

He had risen and now he barred her way on the 
narrow ridge of rock. The flush had ebbed and he 
was slowly whitening, the weak, receding chin quiver¬ 
ing with rage. 

“So that’s the way you feel, is it? I’m low, am I, 
and a cad?—Just a minute, Claudia! You say we 
haven’t understood each other and maybe that is so; 
let’s understand each other now!” 

“There is nothing to understand!” Claudia had 
regained control of herself, and her voice was cut¬ 
tingly cold. “Will you allow me to pass?” 


316 Dust to Dust 

“If you wish to—when you have heard me, and if 
you’re wise, you’ll listen. I suppose you look on 
yourself as a martyr and you think the rest of the 
world does; perhaps some of them will pretend to, 
and welcome you back again because you were born a 
Langham, but they don’t know all the truth!” 

In sheer amazement Claudia stared, and a sen¬ 
sation recurred to her that she had almost forgotten 
in these later weeks of security—a slow chill creeping 
about her heart. 

“What do you mean?” she asked. 

“Interested now, are you?” His thin lips curled. 
“There are queer fish in our world as well as any 
other—sycophants who would toady to you for your 
money and what your name used to mean, sensation 
mongers who might welcome a chance to exploit you, 
climbers, has-beens, a few like myself whose positions 
are so assured that your recent experience need be of 
little consequence in their eyes. They wouldn’t shy 
at an accusation of murder perhaps, since you’ve been 
cleared, but they’d turn from you like a leper if they 
knew what I know! I never meant to speak of it, 
but you’ve goaded me too far! I came to you like a 
man, offering you my affection, the protection of my 
name, my help in winning back your place in the world! 
How many other men would do that, not only after 
your disgrace, but knowing what is in your blood?” 

“In—my—blood!” The chill contracted now 

about her heart like the clutch of an icy hand. 

“You know what I mean; you must have known 
ever since they opened the door in your house that 


The Final Menace 317 

has been sealed all these years! There were whispers 
ages ago, and though they died down for lack of proof 
they weren’t forgotten; people—a few who still won¬ 
dered—used to look at you a trifle askance in your 
debutante year, but you were so serenely self-assured 
that you never noticed. They whispered again when 
you shut yourself away from the world after your 
father died and when your trouble came there was 
open speculation. You were set free and it was 
silenced for a time, but the least touch will set the ball 
of scandal rolling again.” He advanced a step to¬ 
ward her. “Knowing that, Claudia, and that the 
misfortune, the germs of the malady, may exist in the 
very blood that flows in your veins now, what other 
man do you think would have the courage to take you 
for his wife?” 

The world, which before his coming had seemed a 
tranquil place save for her own private knowledge, 
had crashed again about her ears and she strove to 
gain time to combat this new danger, not to herself 
but to a beloved memory. 

“What ridiculous gossip have you heard?” she de¬ 
manded scornfully. “Who told you any absurd tale 
about a locked room in my house?” 

“A certain white-whiskered juryman who was one 
of a group of twelve—you may perhaps recall them! 
—that visited your house on an authorized tour of 
inspection, mentioned some unusual features of that 
room without in the least knowing what he was talk¬ 
ing about, but I knew! Mr. Rowe is clever and the 
moment the police turned over the keys of that room 


318 Dust to Dust 

it was dismantled, but the proof of what had been 
so long suspected did exist. Except those who were 
always in the secret, you and I are the only ones 
alive who know of that old trouble, Claudia, and no 
one else need ever learn a word concerning it! When 
you are my wife the world will soon forget the 
scandal of your trial; we can live abroad for a few 
years—” 

“I have told you, Dick, that the very word ‘mar¬ 
riage’ is abhorrent to me!” She essayed to steady 
her voice but it trembled anew with horror and dis¬ 
gust. “No man shall ever speak to me again of such 
a thing, no man shall ever call me his wife—” 

“Do you expect me to believe that?” he exclaimed. 
“You are here with Mrs. Yates and your old nurse, 
hiding away from all the world, aren’t you? Very 
touching, I’m sure, but it seems that others as well as 
myself have discovered your retreat! I heard you 
laugh as I came over the carry, I saw that clay dab¬ 
bler, Steve Munson, going away along the path a little 
later while I pushed through the thicket! There 
never was a time when he was not at your heels, I 
remember, and he’d marry you if you were accused 
of killing a dozen men, but would he, if he knew of 
your possible inheritance? I have waited for you too 
long, it means too much for me to lose you now!— 
Don’t be afraid, I shan’t bother you! I’ll go back 
to the Lodge and give you a few days to think this 
over, but it won’t be any use for you to run away from 
me, Claudia! I can’t force you to marry me, of course, 
but you’ll never be Steve Munson’s wife, for I’ll go 


The Final Menace 319 

to him first and tell him! There’s a barrier between 
you and every chance for happiness except with me!” 

“Happiness, with you?” Her blazing eyes seemed 
to shrivel the man before her. “A man came once 
to bargain with me for money and I thought him the 
most despicable creature on earth, but you are still 
more vile ! Go, and never dare come near me again!” 

“I’ll come back to-morrow and you’ll give me a 
different welcome, Claudia! You may call me what 
you please, but a man must fight for what he wants 
with any weapon which comes to his hand, and I have 
warned you. To-morrow!” 

Before she could guess his intention he had seized 
her hand and pressed it with his hard, hot lips. The 
next moment he had turned, and she heard him plung¬ 
ing off through the undergrowth toward the carry. 

When the noise of his going had died away she sank 
down again upon the rock and covered her face with 
her hands, shaking with the loathing and disgust which 
filled her being. To think that such a creature as 
Dicky Tewson lived! He was always unprincipled, 
a slanderer who was tolerated because he was feared, 
but that he was capable of descending to such depths 
of depravity to coerce her into marriage that he might 
recoup his fortunes was something of which she had 
never dreamed! She was under no illusion that he 
had conceived any passion for her; his motives had 
been purely mercenary even when he had first pro¬ 
posed to her two years before, and the knowledge of 
it then had sharpened the scorn with which she sent 
him away. She recalled, too, that Mrs. Yates had 


320 Dust to Dust 

heard, just after her freedom had come, of some dis¬ 
astrous debt he had recently got himself into. 

Did he think that because of the ordeal through 
which she had passed she would be grateful for his 
offer, because of the blood that was in her veins and 
his knowledge of it that she would jump at the chance 
to buy the doubtful protection of his name? 

But her personal indignation at the insult offered her 
was lost in this new and final menace, not only to her 
but to the memory of that mother who had been so 
dear to her, who had lately in some inexplicable fash¬ 
ion seemed more closely akin. Stephen, the world, 
must never know! No one must ever guess the truth! 
Claudia felt no fear of the world’s suspicion of her 
own sanity, as Dick Tewson had hinted, even though 
those about her were always watching her, spying 
upon her! She knew how brilliantly sane she was, 
how clear and astute the mind which had guided her 
in the destruction of her enemy, and she could laugh 
them all to scorn! 

But Dick Tewson must never be allowed to divulge 
the story of her mother’s trouble; in justice also to 
her father who had so carefully guarded the living 
tragedy from becoming known, the secret must be 
kept now! When Dick Tewson realized that she 
meant what she said, that not only was his presump¬ 
tuous hope futile, but that no man existed for her, no 
love could ever come, would he go away and trouble 
her no more or in sheer malice would he speak? 

The still cold grew more intense and the sky was 
overspread with gray before the early twilight came, 
but Claudia did not feel it and she crouched there 


The Final Menace 321 

motionless as the dusk fell, deepening into a wintry 
darkness. 

Why had Dick Tewson been permitted to come into 
her life again? Why could he not be wiped from 
her path as those others had been? She felt that if 
he stood before her at that moment she could hurl 
that dissipated unclean body from her into the waters 
of the lake and watch unmoved while they closed over 
that sleek head, as she had stood and listened for 
the sound which would tell her that Zorn had gone 
to his death. 

Her vision blurred, swimming in a haze of red. 
She had succeeded once, she could succeed again, she 
was cleverer than all the world beside. And he was 
coming back to-morrow! 


CHAPTER XXIII 


OBLITERATION 

C LAUDIA awakened to a white world the next 
morning and listened with half-hearted atten¬ 
tion to Annie’s description of “a shooting star 
with a tail to it” that she had seen from her window 
before the start of the snowfall. A shooting star was 
an infallible sign of dire destruction, according to the 
old nurse, and she went about all day with an air of 
portentous gloom, but Claudia was oblivious. 

She had slept heavily during the night, her irrev¬ 
ocable decision once made, but when she awakened 
and realization returned of the task before her, she 
was in a quandary as to the method she must employ 
to achieve it. Dick Tewson must be destroyed, but 
here in this white wilderness there were no motor 
cars to run him down, the hunting season was over 
and no guns were about by which such another acci¬ 
dent might occur as had removed Niles Hamersley. 
She must wait and trust to the intuition which had not 
failed her with Zorn, for it would come; she could not 
fail! 

At breakfast her pre-occupation passed for tran¬ 
quillity to Mrs. Yates’ undiscerning eyes and the lat¬ 
ter, smiling wisely to herself, observed: 

“Stephen was here yesterday; he’s staying at the 
322 


Obliteration 323 

hunt club. Did you meet him, Claudia? I told him 
the path you had taken on your walk.” 

“Yes.” Claudia nodded indifferently, but to her 
annoyance she could feel a warm flush mounting in 
her cheeks for the older woman’s implication was 
unmistakable. “He said you’d invited him over; I 
think it would be very nice.” 

She remembered all at once that Mrs. Yates knew 
Stephen loved,her. But what did it matter? She 
had no love to give him, only the friendship of the 
past and that, too, would cease if he meant to watch 
her, spy upon her, as all these others were doing, sus¬ 
pect her of her mother’s infirmity when she was really 
saner than she had ever been, saner than any one in 
the world. This one last task remained before her, 
then she could send Stephen away and be at peace. 

All day the snow whirled in feathery flakes about 
the windows of the little rustic lodge and Mrs. Yates 
sat knitting placidly by the fire while Claudia wandered 
restlessly about, gazing out at the mounting drifts. 
As the hours passed a plan took form in her thoughts. 
The snow should aid her as had the dust storm of two 
months before! It would be simple, so easy, and in¬ 
genious, and impossible of detection, if only she could 
guard herself, dissemble! Dick Tewson was a fool, 
dissolute but not crafty like Zorn, yet she had hood¬ 
winked Zorn and she would not fail with this weak¬ 
ling. If only the time would come! 

As the afternoon waned only one apprehension as¬ 
sailed her; what if Stephen should come and keep her 
from her appointment? Dick Tewson had been so 


324 Dust to Dust 

sure of his hold over her that she did not doubt he 
would go to meet her and not finding her he might 
venture to the lodge itself! At last she could endure 
the suspense no longer. Combating the objections of 
Mrs. Yates and Annie, she wrapped herself up warmly 
and started out for her usual walk. 

Thank fortune, it was still snowing, light, dry 
flakes like glittering diamond dust, that would oblit¬ 
erate all tracks. Dust! Why must dust, of one 
sort or another, pursue her still? As if fleeing from 
it, Claudia ran ahead along the pathway toward that 
rock over the lake, a path marked now only by the 
narrow, cleared space in the dense undergrowth. It 
was earlier than their meeting of the previous day, 
but perhaps Dick Tewson would be there, perhaps he 
might guess that she wouldn’t be permitted to leave 
the lodge later in the storm. She drew near the rock 
—and saw through the driving white mist that a slight, 
dark figure stood beneath a tall pine, shielded under 
an umbrella. It was Dick Tewson! How despicable 
he looked huddled there! Could she persuade him 
to go with her where he must be made to go? 

He saw her and advanced, stepping ridiculously 
high through the soft drifts, and she quickened her 
own pace. 

“You came, Claudia!” There was a triumphant 
ring in his tones that made her quiver in every tense 
nerve, but she held out her hand with a little smile of 
capitulation. 

“Yes, Dicky. I’ve been thinking, you see. Don’t 
let’s stand here; it’s too cold and I can’t take you back 


Obliteration 325 

to the lodge just yet, we must talk. I want to go up 
and see the gorge in the storm. Will you take me? 
It isn’t far.” 

There was a coaxing, coquettish note in her voice 
that made him stare and then smile slowly. 

“It’s a pretty tough hike in the snow but I’ll take 
you to—to the Border if you’ve come to tell me that 
you’re going to marry me at last!” 

“I don’t pretend to love you, Dicky, I don’t love 
anybody!” She spoke in a low, hurried tone as they 
started off on the half-obliterated trail up the moun¬ 
tainside. “I’ve realized though that I’m lonesome, 
and after all you’re my kind, I’ve known you always. 
As you said, we can go away until people forget my 
trouble and then when I don’t come back as Claudia 
Hamersley but as—” 

Each word had been forced and now his hated 
name would not come, but he did not notice the effort. 
Instead he paused and drew her back suddenly against 
him in the path. 

“My darling!” He spoke hoarsely with more ela¬ 
tion than affection. “I’ll make you happy! I’ll 
make you love me! You’ll never regret—” 

“Not now!” Claudia laughed with an odd, metal¬ 
lic note as his weak face drew close to hers, and 
twisted herself swiftly from his arms. “Wait till we 
reach the gorge!” 

Still laughing she danced on lightly ahead of him 
like a snow-spirit in her white fur jacket and cap. If 
he stifled an oath as he plodded behind her it was 
lost in the soughing of the wind through the trees. 


326 Dust to Dust 

Soon he was too exhausted with his efforts to at¬ 
tempt any further endearment but panted and 
scrambled over the icy crust which lay beneath the 
deep, powdery snow, while Claudia went forward and 
up as though borne on the wings of the storm, feeling 
an insidious warmth and exhilaration creeping over 
her, strange lights sparkling before her eyes and a sen¬ 
sation almost of intoxication pervading her brain. 

They were almost there, almost at the edge of the 
narrow, canyon-like rift in the mountainside which de¬ 
scended sharply to unknown depths far below! This 
poor fool scrambling along behind her to his destruc¬ 
tion, how little he knew her when he had thought 
with his stupid threats, to force her into a detestable 
marriage, how little he dreamed of the Claudia she 
had become! 

She had reached it, the small shelf of rock which 
overhung the gorge! Claudia laughed again and 
turned, holding out her hand to the toiling, puffing 
figure crawling up on the rock. 

“Let’s look down, Dicky! Straight down over the 
edge!” she cried almost hysterically. He drew back 
and for the first time an odd look came into his eyes 
as they met hers. 

“I don’t want to!” It was almost a whine. “It 
always makes me confoundedly ill to look down from 
a height. You—you’re strange to-day! Let us sit 
over here—I’ll brush off this rock for you—” 

“Oh, but that’s what we came up for!” She was 
on guard now, her voice that of a disappointed child. 
“It must be a splendid sight, all lovely and white down 


Obliteration 327 

there! I’ll be afraid to look if you don’t hold me— 
but don’t make me think my—my husband is going to 
be a coward!” 

Grumbling a trifle beneath his breath Dick Tewson 
deposited his umbrella, which he had been using as 
an alpenstock, against the huge bowlder and advanced 
cautiously to the edge. 

“We’ll sit down and look over, then, if you want 
to!” he said. “It’s foolish, Claudia, when we’ve so 
much to talk about and I want to tell you how won¬ 
derfully happy we’re going to be, but you’re just a 
little madcap, after all, and I’ll do anything for you 
to-day! Let me go first, though, and then—” 

He never finished his sentence, for as he crouched 
on the brink preparatory to swinging his feet over 
and seating himself Claudia took a quick, noiseless 
step forward and with a sudden, mighty strength 
which seemed miraculously to imbue her, she thrust 
both hands against his shoulders. 

He screamed out hoarsely, horribly—as Zorn had 
done when he hung for that instant over the river— 
swayed, toppled and then shot forward and down, his 
cries echoing back from the abyss! The force of her 
blow had sent Claudia flat upon her face with her 
head hanging over the brink and now she watched, 
awed and fascinated as his dark form hurtled from 
side to side of the fissure of rock, striking and re¬ 
bounding till it dwindled and disappeared in the black 
void. 

How still it was! She lay there for a time, motion¬ 
less, staring glassily downward while the wind rose 


328 Dust to Dust 

and fell, and the snow still swirled about her. It was 
over! A minute ago he had stood beside her secure in 
his mastery, gloating over his easy triumph. Now he 
was gone, obliterated! Who but she in all the world 
would have been clever enough to think of such a 
crafty plan! She had killed him, Dicky Tewson! Just 
as she had killed those others! 

Wriggling back cautiously she rose and made her 
way down the mountainside, shouting hoarsely in an 
abandonment of triumph, laughing that strange, 
strident laugh which could not betray her now, since 
there was none to hear. Twice she fell, but the deep¬ 
ening drifts saved her from injury, and as she regained 
the path that led to the lodge a measure of caution 
and wary self-control came back to her. A few hours 
or days of watchfulness now and they would return 
to the city, she could make of her life what she would! 

Mrs. Yates was still knitting by the hearth when 
Claudia slipped into the living-room door, but Stephen 
sat beside her! The girl’s lips tightened for an in¬ 
stant, then she came forward with outstretched hand. 

“Stephen! I thought that only I would venture 
out in this glorious storm!” 

He rose and took both her hands. 

“I would have gone to look for you in another 
moment, for Mrs. Yates was getting anxious. Jove, 
Claudia! How wonderfully well you are looking!” 

To his unsuspecting eyes the glittering light in hers 
and the feverish color in her cheeks came naturally 
from her encounter with the elements, but Claudia’s 
manner instantly became more subdued. He was 


Obliteration 329 

watching her too, she must remember! She permit¬ 
ted him to help her out of her coat and cap and fleecy 
gloves, then seated herself in the chair he placed for 
her. Mrs. Yates discreetly withdrew and they talked 
for a time with animation, but at length silence fell 
between them, as on the previous day, while Claudia 
gazed into the leaping flames. 

Dicky Tewson’s weak, vicious face looked out at 
her! Why couldn’t she put him from her thoughts as 
easily as she had thrust him down into that void! 
That last cry of his still echoed in her ears!—But 
what was Stephen saying? She must listen, she must 
reply coherently! He mustn’t suspect— 

“Do you know who is up in this neck of the woods, 
Claudia?” Stephen asked suddenly and at the question 
a little tremor seized her and swift premonition closed 
her lips. He took her silence for negation and went 
on: “Dicky Tewson, of all people! I didn’t know 
he went in for anything as strenuous as hunting but 
he’s staying over at the Lodge at Salt Lick Run. I 
can’t imagine how he discovered that I was at the 
club, nor what he wants of me, but one of the guides 
brought a note over this afternoon; he asked me to 
lunch with him to-morrow, says he has something im¬ 
portant to tell me! If he ever knew anything of im¬ 
portance he must have kept it strictly to himself, and 
he never honored me with his confidence before. I 
think I’ll go out of sheer curiosity.” 

For a moment Claudia was still dumb. 

So Dick Tewson had intended to take no chance! 
He had meant to tell and remove this supposed ob- 


330 Dust to Dust 

stack from his path! How wise she had been! 
What an escape! But Stephen was looking at her 
and she forced herself to reply: 

“He saw you yesterday just after you left me there 
by the lake, do you remember? Mrs. Edgett had 
told him that Mrs. Yates and I were in camp here 
and he came over to offer me his sympathy and con¬ 
gratulation.” She smiled a little wryly. “I wouldn’t 
see him when he called in town but I was fairly caught 
out there on the rock!-—By the way, Stephen, what 
do you think of our camp? You see, we are not quite 
tent dwellers, after all!” 

To her relief Annie appeared at this juncture to 
lay the cloth for supper, but during the meal while 
Mrs. Yates, observing the repression in her manner, 
came to the rescue with a flow of light chatter, Claudia 
sat exulting inwardly. No one now, except the few 
who had faithfully guarded the secret, would ever 
know of her mother’s infirmity, and she by her prompt, 
brilliantly conceived act had prevented it! She had 
stopped that tattling tongue forever! 

She scarcely knew when the meal was over and Mrs. 
Yates had tactfully disappeared once more, but she 
found herself somehow again in her chair before the 
hearth, with Stephen beside her, and knew that a 
longer silence had fallen than before. 

“You will be coming back soon, Claudia?” Stephen 
spoke at last. 

“Back?” Claudia came to herself with a little 
start. 

“To town, to carry on again,” he explained gently. 


Obliteration 331 

“You can’t hibernate all winter with Mrs. Yates and 
Annie, you know!” 

“Of course not!” She smiled faintly. “I don’t 
know—we hadn’t decided. I suppose now that the 
snow has come it will change everything. Annie is 
really too old for severe weather up here and Mrs. 
Yates must be bored to death, but I didn’t realize that 
winter was upon us; I was just drifting.” 

“One can’t drift always.” He was looking deep 
into the fire now. “What do you mean to do with your 
life, Claudia, have you thought?” 

“Not until lately,” she confessed. “I felt as though 
I had been beaten, Stephen, stoned! I wanted to 
crawl away somewhere and be quite alone until my 
bruises healed and I could want to live again.” 

“I understand.” He nodded and his voice was very 
low. “But you are young and bruises, even the worst 
of them, heal quickly then. Have you thought of the 
future, what you would do with it?” 

“I shall—look on,” she responded slowly. “Not a 
very laudable ambition, perhaps, but it is all that life 
can hold for me now, and I—I am content.” 

“But that is morbid!” he exclaimed. “We never 
know—what life can hold for us, Claudia. We may 
think it is all shadows but then suddenly the light 
comes!” 

She shook her head. 

“I walked always in the shadows but I did not know 
it until very lately, Stephen. For me there can be only 
—shadows, until the end.—But don’t let’s talk about 
me any more! Tell me how the court house group is 


332 Dust to Dust 

coming on, and when I may see it after my return!” 

She did not know that he had glanced at her quickly, 
with an odd, startled surprise. He was silent for a 
moment and then he turned to her once more. 

“The group will be completed soon after Christmas 
but not unveiled until the spring, you know. After 
that I am going abroad to study; Paris first and then 
Rome.” 

There were other faces in the firelight now! Dick 
Tewson was there again, smirking at her, but so was 
Zorn, lowering, menacing; and dim and shadowy in 
the smoke vanishing up the chimney was Niles Hamers- 
ley; angry, then amazed, then terror-stricken as she 
had last seen him! 

“That will be—splendid.” Claudia replied mechani¬ 
cally. “You will be away—a long time?” 

“Several years.” 

“Why, Stephen!” She tried to infuse a note of 
enthusiasm into her tones. If only those faces would 
go away!—“It will be wonderful for you, of course, 
an opportunity you should have had long ago! How 
strange it will seem to look across the Square at your 
old studio and know that you aren’t there, but I am 
truly glad for you.” 

“Claudia, won’t you—don’t you think that perhaps 
you could come with me?” Somehow he had pos¬ 
sessed himself of her hand and for a moment she let 
it rest passively in his. “I don’t want to startle you, 
dear, or ask anything of you now, but the spring is a 
long way off and I thought if you knew I had cared 


Obliteration 333 

always, since you were a little girl, it might help you 
to feel that perhaps you could trust yourself to me 
some day! I couldn’t speak before but I could hope, 
and then suddenly it seemed that it was too late. 
But you gave me your friendship, it’s mine still, and 
I’ve thought that it mightn’t be too late, after all! 
I tried not to care, I tried to be grateful for what you 
could give me, but I want more! I want you! Per¬ 
haps in the spring—” 

“Don’t, Stephen!” She drew her hand abruptly 
from his. “I could never care for anybody! Can’t 
you understand? I could never think of—of love 
again!” 

“You feel that way now, perhaps, but that is only 
because I have spoken too soon!” he urged. 

“It will be always impossible!” she cried. “After 
what I have experienced the very thought is horrible! 
You must never speak to me of this—” 

“Then don’t say any more now, Claudia 1” he inter¬ 
rupted her eagerly. “Don’t think about it, just re¬ 
member we are only the grown-up kiddies who used 
to play together in the square.—Look! There’s a 
shooting star, a meteorite! That’s an omenl” 

“Of destruction, Annie says!” Claudia gave a 
little shiver. “She told me that she saw one last 
night.—Why, the sky is clear! You can see the 
stars!” 

Stephen nodded. 

“Yes, it stopped snowing a little while after you 
came home, and it has been growing steadily colder; 


334 Dust to Dust 

a light crust must have formed already. Run and 
put on some heavy boots and a warm cloak, and we’ll 
see if there are any more of them.” 

Glad of the opportunity to escape from his pleading, 
which had aroused an aversion in her which she had 
not dreamed possible, Claudia hurried to her room. 
Wrapping herself up warmly once more she slipped 
a flashlight into the capacious pocket of her coat, then 
reentered the living-room. It was empty but the door 
to the little porch was open and Stephen awaited her 
there. He was leaning against a slender rustic up¬ 
right and his figure, although shapeless in its bulky 
clothes, looked singularly dejected. He straightened 
hastily at the sound of her footfall, however, and his 
voice was gallantly gay. 

‘‘This is great, isn’t it? I’ve tried the snow, Clau¬ 
dia, and I think that out in the open, at least, the crust 
is heavy enough to bear your weight. I’ll bring you 
some snow-shoes to-morrow, but in the meantime we 
can go for a little way.” 

Claudia glanced about her at the broad expanse of 
silvery white, the solid phalanxes of trees with their 
heavy-laden branches outstretched and glittering like 
an army of some splendid soldiery of old in armor of 
precious metal. She drew a deep breath of the 
frosty, clear air and glanced upward at the sky. How 
near it seemed! The velvety black curtain was de¬ 
scending, the stars were very close . . . 

All at once a great ball of light flashed downward, 
its luminous train a brilliant streak across the night, 
and seemed to be rushing straight upon her! Claudia 


Obliteration 335 

gave a little gasping cry and shrank instinctively 
against Stephen, still gazing with wide eyes, but the 
fireball dropped seemingly behind some trees on the 
side of the mountain. 

“Did you hear it!” Stephen exclaimed. “Claudia, 
that meteorite fell into the gorge!” 

“ ‘The gorge’!” she repeated faintly and her heart 
seemed to stand still. 

“Yes. It’s not a great way from here. Do you 
think you can make it? I don’t believe you ever saw 
a shooting star!” 

Even as she spoke Claudia knew that she must go! 
Something was drawing her back to the scene of the 
afternoon, something stronger than her will. What¬ 
ever it was, it awaited her at the top and she must 
go to meet it! 

“Come!” she cried and darted off ahead of him 
along the path to the rising ground. She felt no fear, 
only a mounting excitement, and though Stephen 
easily kept pace with her she was scarcely conscious 
of his presence. She reached the glistening ledge at 
last and then paused, stricken motionless, for there 
against the rock reposed a long, black object which 
seemed to stretch drooping wings in the moonlight. 

“Hello! Some one’s been here before us!” Stephen 
cried, striding forward. “They’ve left their umbrella, 
of all things!—Why, I know that handle ! It’s Dicky 
Tewson’s!” 

“Are you sure?” Claudia’s voice was a mere 
whisper. “Here, I’ve a flashlight. I wonder—I 
wonder how he came to be here?” 


336 Dust to Dust 

But Stephen seemed scarcely to have heard. He 
had seized the light and held it so that its rays fell 
full on the gold band of the umbrella. 

“ ‘R. T. TV” he read. “Richard Trowbridge 
Tewson!” 

For a moment he paused, sweeping the light around 
on the ground and then with a cry he dropped the 
umbrella and dashed for the very edge of the chasm. 
The dry snow there had been blown away before a 
crust had formed upon it, the underlayer of ice 
showed broken and jagged at the brink, and in a voice 
of horror Stephen cried: 

“Good God! He’s gone over! He’s down there!” 

He turned to Claudia—but Claudia was not there, 
and beside where she had stood only a young spruce 
rustled in the night wind. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


AS A LITTLE CHILD 

“XT’S no use, Mr. Stephen!” Annie’s voice was 
I strained with much weeping and her withered 
face was ghastly in the pale dawn light creeping 
into the kitchen of the lodge, as she gave brandy and 
coffee to the exhausted young man who stood swaying 
before her. “You’ll never find her, nor all those 
others who are beating the sides of the mountain, and 
maybe it would be better if you didn’t!” 

“What do you mean?” he gasped hoarsely. 

The old servant glanced toward Mrs. Yates sleep¬ 
ing the sleep of utter fatigue in her chair still wrapped 
in her cloak, for she had augmented the searchers till 
fairly driven back to shelter. 

“You—you were one of the few who was trusted 
by Mr. Langham when Miss Claudia’s poor mother 
died. You know what it was we guarded in that 
room for two long years—” 

“Nonsense!” Stephen cried. “It wasn’t heredi¬ 
tary ! Claudia’s mind would have given ’way long ago 
under the strain of her terrible trouble! She’s as 
sane as you or I—” 

But his startled voice broke and Annie shook her 
gray head mournfully. 

“No, Mr. Stephen, she wasn’t! At least, Dr, Van 
Tuyl and Mr. Rowe have been afraid of it right 
337 


338 Dust to Dust 

along! They told us to watch her, George and me, 
but she seemed to be getting on fine—they even let 
her have a car and go out by herself!—and when we 
came up here Dr. Van Tuyl told Mr. Rowe that the 
next few months would tell the tale! I heard him!” 

“I tell you it isn’t true!” Stephen exclaimed des¬ 
perately. “You always were an alarmist, Annie! 
She hasn’t shown a symptom like poor Mrs. Lang- 
ham!” 

“That notion of killing folks, like when she tried 
to strangle me and stab Mr. Langham? Homicidal 
mania, they called it?” Annie’s tears started afresh. 
“There’s other symptoms she could show. The doc¬ 
tor said it might come on gradual, with a sudden 
burst of that kind of violence, or she—she might be 
like a little child again, and it’d be hopeless! It’s 
come to her, Mr. Stephen! It’s come to her!” 

“I think you’re crazy, yourself!” He put down 
his coffee cup with a shaking hand. “The shock of 
finding out that Tewson fell over the gorge might have 
bewildered her and she wandered away and got lost, 
but that’s all. It must be! She’s out there some¬ 
where freezing, and I’m going to find her!” 

He turned and dashed out once more into the 
snowy wilderness, but it was not Stephen who found 
her after all. When long hours had passed and sun- 
dazed and scarcely able to stand he crept to the lodge 
once more he heard a sound from within that made 
his tired heart leap. Claudia was laughing! It was 
a weak, curiously high-pitched laugh, but there seemed 
to be sheer merriment in it, almost mischief, the way 


As a Little Child 339 

she had laughed in their games long ago, and with a 
sob of thankfulness he sprang for the door. 

However his way was blocked by Mrs. Yates and 
at sight of her face he recoiled. 

“What is it?” he demanded. “For God’s sake, 
what’s the trouble? Claudia’s safe! She’s in there, 
I heard her laugh! She isn’t delirious, hurt!” 

“No, my poor boy!” The tears were rolling down 
her plain, kindly face and she placed a motherly hand 
on his shoulder. “Claudia isn’t hurt, physically. 
She’s very happy! Remember that when you go in. 
We are the only ones who will grieve, she’ll never 
know a minute’s sorrow or anxiety or trouble again 
in this world, never again!” 

“I—don’t understand!” He staggered back 
against the porch railing his eyes dark with fear. 
“You don’t mean—Annie told me—” 

“There’s—a little child in there, Stephen. A little 
child who will never grow up, who’ll always play 
happily in the sunshine!” 

Mrs. Yates bowed her head and stepped aside and 
with a low cry Stephen leaped through the doorway, 
then paused and softly approached the little group 
gathered about something lying on a pile of rugs be¬ 
fore the hearth. 

Annie, on her knees beside it, glanced up and then 
made way for him and he knelt also. 

Claudia was lying there with her unbound, golden 
hair falling about her shoulders and he saw that an 
indefinable change had taken place in her features, 
robbing them of all traces of maturity. Then her 


340 


Dust to Dust 

blue eyes opened wide with an ingenuous, childish 
stare and again that gurgling laugh rippled forth and 
a sweet, high-pitched treble met his ears. 

“Oh, it’s Stevie! Look, Stevie, Annie’s crying! 
What for? Let’s go out and play!” 


THE END 


















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